


A League of Extraordinary Women

by SennyriNamis23



Series: The Destiny of an Alliance [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic
Genre: Female Sith Warrior as Outlander, KotFE spoilers, Multi, it's gonna be a long ride, oh god there are too many characters im so sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-20
Updated: 2018-03-26
Packaged: 2019-01-01 00:58:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 91,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12145086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SennyriNamis23/pseuds/SennyriNamis23
Summary: Ziost has been destroyed. Zakuul rises quickly, wreaking havoc in its wake. When it's clear that the Republic and Empire don't have the ability to fight back, a group of heroines (and a couple heroes) comes together to form an alliance. They are Republic soldiers and Imperial spies, Jedi and Sith, Smugglers and Bounty Hunters. They are friends, family, allies, strangers. But they all have a single goal: push Zakuul back and destroy Valkorion, the former Sith Emperor Vitiate.





	1. The Spark

_Something in the Force was festering. Feeding, growing, pulsing. Ziost was only the beginning. Technically speaking, Ziost was in the middle of the beginning. A trial-run. An experiment. Yavin IV had been the true beginning, as mixed as its results had been. But Ziost. Ziost was a success. It worked spectacularly. Both the Emperor’s Wrath - former Wrath - and the Mandalorian Champion had witnessed it directly, along with officials from both the Empire and Republic. The rest of the galaxy experienced it by proxy, either sensing it through the Force or hearing from the newscasters who hounded Ziost’s remains for months after._

_Calling it evil would make all the other villains of the galaxy look like angels._

_The Force surged as millions died and one prevailed. Darkness would drown the light. Death would drown out life. To feed his lust. To feed his power. To feed his immortality. The Force rippled and swirled, dragging the attention of an entire galaxy to one man. To one planet. To one empire._

_The Emperor had returned._

\---

“Love, are you sure about this?” Felix asked, taking Kalina’s hand in his as they left the safety of their own ship for the bustling spaceport on Nar Shaddaa. It was one of the few places in the galaxy where Imperial and Republic citizens could mingle together without so many sideways glances. That didn’t mean they weren’t going to dress in plain garb, though - both of them donned oversized beige ponchos over neutral light armor. Kalina kept her lightsaber on her hip under her robes, but otherwise showed no sign of her affiliation with the Jedi. 

She pulled her hood up over her head and squeezed Felix’s hand gently. “I trust Raelyn with my life; we’ll be fine.”

He just sighed and shook his head, reaching for her face with his free hand and tucking a loose lock of crimson hair behind her ear. His hand lingered on her cheek for a moment before her knees buckled and started to give out; Felix immediately took most of her weight with his hands, keeping her steady until she found her equilibrium again. Kalina let out a grunt - equally annoyed and pained - and pushed herself back up to her full height. Because today was the day where she needed her body to work, so of course it was going to misbehave. With a sigh, she gathered her strength and met Felix’s rich dark eyes with her clear blue ones.

That crease in his brow deepened, “One of those days, huh?”

“It’s not so bad,” Kalina replied, smiling a little to put him at ease, “I’ve still got you, don’t I?”

He kissed the top of her head and finally allowed himself a smile, even if it was a small one. “Shall we go?” he said, wrapping his arm around hers and letting her lead the way through the crowded and busy spaceport. 

The line for customs was about as long as the lines for everything else - packed no less than five people wide and about twenty deep. Kalina took a deep, centering breath, pushing as much calming energy into Felix as she could. He just looked at her and shook his head. She put her head down and fiddled with the datapad that had their information.

“ID,” the Officer ordered as they finally pushed their way to the front of the crowd.

Kalina silently handed him the datapad, gently pushing a suggestion towards him. He looked unamused. He clicked a few buttons, grumbled a little to no one in particular, and made a note on his own screen before thrusting it back to Kalina.

“Under Hutt law, no one is to remove flora or fauna from their natural habitat outside the planet, punishable by the discretion of the Hutt in charge of the sector.”

Did Nar Shaddaa even have native flora or fauna? Seemed like an arbitrary thing to say, but then again, there weren’t too many laws at all on the Hutta moon, so Kalina supposed they had to list the ones they actually enforced. Felix squeezed her hand, and Kalina nodded to the official before they turned and slipped through the rest of the crowds, winding their way through the spaceport and outside into the durasteel jungle.

Kalina looked up, watching as hundreds of speeders flew by haphazardly, completely unlike the orderly travel lanes of Coruscant. The buildings were erected in much the same way; tiny apartment buildings were squished between enormous skyscrapers, buildings would often switch styles drastically halfway up as more was built right on top of the old structure. Not a single block’s worth of space went empty, and there were very few ruins lying about - if there was space that was up for grabs on Nar Shaddaa, somebody claimed it. If it weren’t for the need to have travel lanes and sidewalks for pedestrians, there may not be any breathing space at all. Kalina could feel her lungs begging for fresh air already and they hadn’t been outside the spaceport for more than five minutes. Hopefully the air filters in the cantina would work better. The last thing she needed today was difficulty breathing; it was difficult enough that her equilibrium was off and her legs ached seemingly for no reason.

“Two for the Lower Promenade,” Felix told the droid. His voice was surprisingly calm, though any Force user could sense the discomfort running through him. He’d spent almost all of the last few years in the relative solitude of Kalina’s ship or following her to quiet fringe worlds where she was acting as a diplomat - neither of which were at all like the overly crowded and noisy Hutta moon. 

They both clambered in the speeder with relative gracelessness, but Felix took the controls in his hands and eased them up in the air, following the trajectory the droid had given them. Kalina folded her hands in her lap and looked around them, wondering why Raelyn had summoned her. Surely, she must have known that Kalina had also felt the return of the Sith Emperor? It couldn’t just be a warning. And Raelyn knew she hadn’t been out on the battlefield for nearly a year by this point, so it was doubtful she was asking Kalina to help her fight him. But she’d refused to tell her over holo or through a written message, which made her both curious and cautious. And when Kalina had asked about it, she was met with cryptic responses, which was entirely unlike Raelyn.

Felix brought the speeder down gently on the designated pad about a block from the Slippery Slopes Cantina. It was crowded and hot, but at least the air was vaguely breathable. Felix pulled off his hood and wiped the sweat off his forehead with his sleeve. Kalina still leaned on his left arm, but her eyes scanned the room, darting between patrons and workers. The band was loud and the whole place seemed to thump, despite it being only the afternoon. Still, it was at least cleaner than some of the other bars Kalina had been to on Nar Shaddaa. Felix scrunched his nose in disgust at something, probably one of the smells wafting from the bar. 

“Haven’t seen your face around here before, gorgeous,” a particularly hulking Sith Pureblood growled, putting a hand on Kalina’s shoulder.

She immediately recoiled from the touch, and her hand went for her lightsaber. 

“Take your hands off her.” 

Kalina expected the words to come from Felix, but when she looked toward the voice, the crowd was parting for a woman. She was a commanding presence in the room, the air changing immediately as she entered. Her black hair was pulled back, a fringe covering much of the scar on the left side of her face; her skin was dark and freckled on her cheeks and nose; and her eyes were a bright emerald, staring through the souls of the patrons around them. She was followed closely by another woman, who physically looked like her negative image - blonde and fair skinned, but with the same severeness to her face.

“L-Lord Wrath,” the Pureblood stammered, attempting a bow in the crowded space. All he managed was a slight dip in the knee before the woman’s hand clenched by her side and he was brought to his feet by the neck. He sputtered and clawed at the invisible force around his throat, his face paling.

“Raelyn,” the other woman reproached, gently putting her hand to the Wrath’s elbow. A round of raucous laughter rippled through the room, although Kalina wasn’t quite sure if it was directed at the Pureblood or something else. 

Raelyn dropped him unceremoniously to the ground with a thud, kneeling beside him and whispering something nobody else could hear above the noise. But he was nodding furiously as he rubbed his neck. Felix looked like he’d just survived a heart attack, and Kalina rubbed her thumb on his gently. Raelyn bounced back up to her feet and ushered the two of them across the cantina into a private lounge in the back, the other woman accompanying them.

As soon as they were alone, Raelyn allowed herself to smile and drop her facade. Kalina returned it and took her arm out of Felix’s before embracing the Sith Lord.

“It’s been a long time,” Raelyn said quietly.

Kalina squeezed her a little tighter before releasing her and taking a step backward, “It’s good to see you.”

“Felix,” Raelyn greeted with a short nod to him.

“Raelyn,” he replied gruffly. 

The other woman was making her way around the room, plugging codes into her datapad at every security camera and checking every surface for planted sensors.

“We’re clear,” she announced as she returned to Raelyn’s side.

Raelyn nodded, “Good. I believe some introductions are in order. Kalina, this is Lana Beniko, Minister of Sith Intelligence. Lana, meet Kalina Lornacch, the Barsen’thor of the Jedi, and her husband, Lieutenant Felix Iresso.”

Lana clasped her hands behind her back, “These are strange times when the Sith call on the Barsen’thor as an ally, but it is a pleasure nonetheless.”

“Likewise,” Kalina replied. Felix looked around skeptically, painfully aware that he was the only one in the room who wasn’t a Force user, but he put on a good face anyway. Raelyn led the group of them to the lounge in the center of the room, where they sat around a console.

“I take it you know about Ziost?” Raelyn asked, leaning forward with her hands clasped together.

Kalina and Felix nodded in unison. An entire planet’s population devoured and then made into dust by Vitiate, the former Sith Emperor. They’d seen dozens of news reels, the same horrifying footage replayed over and over and over again; Kalina had been sent to more than one planet to calm the panic sweeping through since the catastrophe, especially to nearby planets who were flocking to the Republic for protection. 

Lana shuddered and looked down beside them, clearly bothered by the memory of it.

“Vitiate’s plans were thwarted by your Jedi Battlemaster when she struck him down nearly a year ago,” she said calmly, still looking at the datapad in her lap, “but it would seem that his death was merely physical. His spirit either still lives on, or has taken another form.”

Kalina nodded; Aelac’camo - the reluctant Jedi Battlemaster - had expressed her own concerns about that possibility some time ago, shortly after the “death” of the Sith Emperor. At the time, Kalina had decided to calm Aelacc’s fears rather than act on them; the galaxy needed to settle into normalcy again before she could afford to worry about Vitiate’s next plan. That was her thought at the time, anyway. She couldn’t help the pang of guilt now that she thought about the destruction of an entire planet that might have been avoided.

“So, what, you think he’s biding his time until he can infest someone’s body?” Felix asked skeptically, “Couldn’t he have done that already? There are trillions of people in this galaxy alone he could have chosen from.”

Lana looked up at him and frowned slightly, “Whatever the Battlemaster did clearly affected him considerably. It is likely that he needed the time to recover enough strength before he chose his next host. At this point, however, we can only speculate.”

“Regardless,” Raelyn said, “Vitiate is a threat to the galaxy as a whole. And it will take the galaxy _as a whole_ to stop him.”

Kalina raised her eyebrow, “You’re suggesting an alliance of Republic and Empire?”

Raelyn nodded, “It’s in our best interest to work together. The only trouble is that Saresh would rather watch the Republic burn if it meant the end of the Sith Empire, and the Dark Council is too busy squabbling to get an actual governing body organized.”

“So it’s up to us.”

That all-too-familiar glint came back to Raelyn’s eyes, “It’s not like we haven’t worked off the books together before.”

Kalina grinned, “I know some folks who wouldn’t mind defecting to save the galaxy.”

“We’re not asking them to defect yet,” Lana clarified, “We would still need a base of operations and any number of other details smoothed out before we could gather them all.”

Kalina and Felix nodded, and she could see even the wheels in his head were turning, thinking of people he knew and things he could do. She put her hand on his under the table and squeezed, grateful for him. Raelyn continued as if she didn't see them, listing ideas and places and people. Lana was diligently taking notes, her eyes lingering on Raelyn as she gesticulated. But she stopped abruptly as her personal holo started beeping, interrupting her line of thought. Raelyn pushed aside her cloak and pulled it out of her pocket; she looked at the caller and growled.

“You're going to have to answer him sometime,” Lana remarked, “he _is_ a member of the Dark Council.”

Raelyn shook her head and threw the holo on the table, “I already know what he wants and I already know he won't take no for an answer.”

Kalina looked from one Sith to the other, hoping one would provide an explanation. 

Raelyn looked at her and huffed, “Darth Marr thinks the Emperor is somewhere out in Wild Space and he's putting together an expedition to find out.”

“As the Emperor’s Wrath, he wants you to go?”

“ _Former_ Wrath,” Raelyn corrected bitterly, “but yes. Apparently the Emperor still has some affection for me and that means I'm now the expert on where he is and what he’s doing.”

Kalina scrunched her face, “I thought he wanted to destroy the galaxy so he could become All-Powerful?”

Raelyn sighed and put her hands to her face, “I know. But I was on Yavin IV and Ziost and given my background with the Hand, Marr seems to think I am somehow better equipped to predict his movements. It's a bunch of nerf-shit, but he's convinced.”

“If we hope to create an alliance, it might be worth getting Marr on our side,” Lana offered, “even if this turns out to be a wild Bantha-chase, he would be an invaluable ally.”

Raelyn pulled one of her hands off her face and touched Lana’s hand, “you always have to be so reasonable.”

Kalina felt like she was invading on a private moment when Lana looked at Raelyn and smiled softly without a word. The silence lasted a little longer before Felix cleared his throat, bringing everyone back to the task at hand. 

“So, where do we go from here?” he asked, putting his hands on the table. Kalina figured she’d put him through enough time with two Sith Lords for today. She could feel a migraine starting to make its way over her forehead, so it was just as well they started wrapping it up.

“I’ll be in touch,” Lana said with a nod, “We should start working out details as soon as possible.”

“Aren’t you Minister of Sith Intelligence?” Kalina asked, tilting her head, “Won’t people notice if you start galavanting with a Jedi?”

Lana raised an eyebrow and looked at her with soul-baring golden eyes, “Let me worry about that.”

Raelyn pushed herself up and made her way to the door, “For now, we wait. I’ll go with Darth Marr to Wild Space, see what’s out there. If it is Vitiate, we’ll be able to see what his power is now. If it’s not, maybe I can shame Marr into giving us resources anyway.”

Kalina chuckled quietly, getting up to embrace her friend again, “Be safe, Raelyn.”

She grinned, “You, too. You’re a rebel now, Lina, no telling what Saresh will do about it.”

\---

“Look, last I checked, Vitiate was the _Sith_ Emperor. He’s _your_ problem. When Mandalore starts eating planets, then you can give me a call, alright?”

“You severely underestimate the power of the Emperor,” Darth Marr’s image crossed his arms, the scowl on his face abundantly clear despite the heavy mask he wore, “The entire galaxy is at stake, not just the Empire.”

The Chiss put her hands on her hips, “Yeah, well, you’ll excuse me if I don’t want to scamper to your ship on a suicide mission. I had more than my fair share of Emperor-shenanigans on Ziost, thanks.”

“As a Mandalorian, you-”

“First of all, you are _not_ a Mandalorian. Do not lecture me on what it means to be one,” she growled, angry enough that her normal cautions about back-talking a Sith Lord were thrown out the window, “Second,  Mando’ade are not _afraid_ of death, but that doesn’t mean we’re _stupid_ enough to throw ourselves headlong into it.”

She could see Torian out of the corner of her eye, rounding the corner into the room where she stood, a bundle wrapped in his arms. Oh, she wished she could just disconnect the call and go to him, but her brain had caught up enough that she thought better of it. Darth Marr was patient as far as Sith were concerned, but he was still a Sith Lord and probably wouldn’t hesitate to use his space magic through a holocall. 

He was grumbling something that she wasn’t paying attention to. Something about Rishi or Yavin IV or the fate of the galaxy. Bla bla bla. An ache ran across her hips and she pressed a hand to it; Ysaine insisted it was normal to feel them still, but that didn’t keep Staceasa from being annoyed every single time it happened.

“-if your honor isn’t enough, perhaps monetary compensation can satiate you.”

“You cannot pay me enough money to do this,” she argued, increasingly frustrated at everything, “If you’re looking for a moron to be your bait for a high enough price, try Gault Rennow. But I won’t be your sacrificial cannok.”

Marr shook his head in defeat, “Very well. An unwilling ally is just as bad as an enemy. Stay in your comfortable pirate paradise, Hunter. Another will take your place.”

Pressing her lips together to keep from swearing at him, she nodded once as he disconnected the call. She exhaled, letting out the breath she’d been holding since she picked up the call, and took the six steps to reach Torian, who had found a spot on the couch. He didn’t say anything, but held out the arm that wasn’t holding anything, and she curled right up into him.

“My two favorite girls,” he said quietly, pressing a kiss in Staceasa’s hair as she reached for the bundle. Torian passed it to her awkwardly, his hand lingering on hers. She looked at him and then down to the child in her arms; she had the coloring of her mother - rich blue skin, black hair, and crimson eyes - but her face was the spitting image of Torian. 

Staceasa moved her daughter so she had a free hand, taking Torian’s and squeezing; for the last six months they’d been running ragged, trying to grow Clan Cadera while also caring for a newborn. They’d petitioned for Staceasa to officially be adopted to Clan Cadera, but Mandalore was pushing against them, wanting to keep the Grand Champion of the Great Hunt within his own Clan. So when they had been denied, they trekked to known locations of clan-less Mandalorians. These _Ures’aliite_ had been difficult to persuade into rejoining a clan that wasn’t their own, but they’d found a few who had wandered the galaxy and wanted a family again: a Zabrak who had been part of Clan Spar, a Togruta from Clan Sharratt, and a human who had had the misfortune of butting heads with Khomo Fett. They’d all responded with varying levels of enthusiasm, but none of them had committed yet. Jicoln still cast a shadow over Clan Cadera, despite Torian’s best efforts.

Regardless, both of them were exhausted. They landed on Rishi nearly a month ago, and Ysaine took one look at them before declaring them grounded. Shae Vizla had been kind enough to let them stay among her clan, and they now had a home of their own among their own people, but Staceasa still felt jittery. She sat on their front porch every night and watched the stars. After spending so much time in her youth stuck on Nar Shaddaa, she hated feeling trapped on a planet, but at least Rishi didn’t have the same light pollution as the Hutta moon. She could see the stars even if she couldn’t travel to them.

Torian leaned his head against hers, snoring lightly as he slept where he sat. Staceasa smiled to herself and closed her own eyes. She may not have the stars, but she had a family. And that was enough...

They were both startled awake an hour later by the ringing of the holoterminal again. Staceasa grumbled as Torian untangled himself from around her and rose to answer it. 

“Vod’ika!” the gregarious voice of Corridan Ordo permeated the entire house even through the static.

Torian nodded, stifling a yawn with his hand.

Corridan put his hands up, “Whoa, there, when was the last time you slept, eh? The little one keeping you and your wife up?”

Torian blinked at him, “You’re the one who woke me up, ner vod.”

The other Mandalorian just laughed without a hint of apology in his voice.

“What’s going on, Corridan?” Torian asked after a moment.

“Thought you and your riduur might want to hunt with us,” he offered with a shrug, “Clan Ordo’s finest haven’t had a good challenge in months.”

Torian shook his head and sighed, “You know Vizla won’t let us leave Rishi.”

“Wasn’t suggesting you should, vod’ika,” Corridan replied with a wink, continuing when Torian offered no response, “We’re coming to Rishi - with permission of Vizla, of course. Thought we’d try the game on your planet.”

Staceasa stood up almost gracefully with her daughter in her arms, standing beside Torian.

“Ah! The Grand Champion herself graces us! And the newest member of Clan Cadera!” he bowed dramatically and Staceasa blinked slowly in response, unamused.

Her daughter yawned and squirmed in her arms, fussing enough for both of her parents to turn to her and reach to calm her. Staceasa bounced her gently, and Torian put one of his fingers in her tiny blue hand, letting her latch onto him. Corridan’s face softened at their reflex, his outward expression quieting as he watched them.

“I’ll let you two get back to it,” he said, “We’ll be on Rishi in a couple weeks, but I’ll let you know when we get closer.”

Torian and Staceasa nodded without looking at him as his image dissipated from the holo.

\---

“Yes, Teethree, I _know_ I haven’t eaten in three days, but we’re out of supplies and we’re stuck here if I don’t get the hyperdrive functioning again,” she wiped her brow with her arm, leaving a streak of oil across her forehead. Her hair was falling in her face, and rather than take out the long braid she kept it in and put it up again, she opted to tuck the loose strands behind her ear and blow the rest off her forehead.

T3 clearly didn’t get the memo as he rolled into the room and pushed her until she fell over, beeping loudly the whole time.

“Okay, okay,” she huffed, putting her hands in front of her as a sign of surrender, “I’ll go scrounge for something while you work on the hyperdrive.”

T3 beeped again and flung the cloth on the floor in her direction.

“You don’t even _have_ a sense of smell, how could you possibly know that!?” she argued, wiping her dirty face with the even dirtier cloth, and when she could feel the dirt and oil smudging on her face, she sighed, “Okay, fine. I’ll shower, too. But you better have the Ebon Hawk ready to fly by the time I’m back.”

He continued to mouth off at her as she walked down the hallway into the cargo bay that doubled as their kitchen. Not that the other members of the crew needed to.. eat. But the rumbling in her stomach had come and gone for the last three days. At the moment it seemed to just accept that she was never going to eat again, but even that was an uncomfortable sensation. And working on the hyperdrive for three days straight wasn’t exactly the recommended way to spend her time. She was stressed and desperate to get out of this patch of space. But they were stranded out in Wild Space somewhere. The only planet even remotely close to them on the navicomputer was some place called Zakuul and that had too many “u”s to be trustworthy. And the “Zak” bit was a little frightening. What sort of place would call itself something so jarring and clunky? What kind of mean people must live there?

No. Zakuul was not an option. It was simply too scary. Nothing at all like the little pirate haven she normally went to that delivered her groceries to the foot of the entrance ramp and always included an extra chocolate bar. Port Nowhere was much more desirable than whatever was out here. But as she rummaged through the cabinets and found very little other than a few dehydrated crackers, the rumbling in her stomach was starting to out-yell her anxieties. She heard T3 swearing in binary and sighed. They were going to be stuck out here for awhile.

Another droid waddled into the cargo bay, a tiny astromech droid that she’d really just built for fun. He was cute and good company, but not particularly useful; T3 had suggested selling him for spare parts once, but she cried at the thought of it and nothing else was said on the matter.

“Mate! How’s it hanging, little buddy?” 

M8 beeped cheerily and spun in a circle before it almost tipped over; the girl stuck out her foot and pushed him back upright.

“Careful,” she warned.

He beeped as if nothing happened before speeding his way out of the room and back down the hall. She shook her head and tucked a few more loose strands of bright ginger hair behind her ear.

She opened the refrigerator unit and frowned - there was a bag of molded grains, and another frozen bag of… something unidentified. She turned her nose up at her options, but her stomach grumbled again and she took her chances with the unidentified bag.

Truth be told, it wasn’t actually that bad, especially if she envisioned tiny chocolate balls as she threw a handful into her mouth. But they really did need to stop somewhere, especially if they were also going to need parts to fix the hyperdrive. The damn thing had been giving her family grief for generations, and she still wasn’t sure why no one had replaced it yet. She could practically feel the taunting from her ancestors in reply.

Or, wait. She knew the Force presences of her family like the back of her own hand. This… this wasn’t something she knew. It wasn’t even a single person, was it? But it was busy and buzzing and crowded.

She shook her head to clear it before she stood up and put the bag of food - she still had no idea what it was - back in the fridge. She desperately needed a shower, but that presence was bothering her. She needed to find it and figure out what it was.

Her meditation chambers were relatively unadorned; there was a single leafy plant in one corner, a few colorful flags, and a place to burn incense, but otherwise looked just like the dormitory on the other side of the ship. She sat cross-legged on the floor and breathed deeply, cleansing her mind of other distractions. Which wasn’t easy when T3 continued to curse out the hyperdrive and she still had a funny taste on her tongue. 

She focused on her breaths, the sensations it left on her lips and in her lungs, and eventually the rest of the ship fell away, leaving her mind in the vastness of space. The presence she felt was stronger now, like the Ebon Hawk was slowly careening towards it. She reached out with the Force, investigating as much as she could. The presence was _big_. Much bigger than any single person. A planet, maybe? No, Zakuul was still too far out. Besides, she could feel the presence of Zakuul already - bright, loud, broadcasting its presence to the galaxy. This one was hiding, like it was only a shadow. But it still buzzed and bustled. A moon? A populated moon?

A single word came to mind: Asylum.

She’d had enough Force visions by this point to know she shouldn’t question the bizarre things that popped into her mind. If Asylum was the name of this place, she hoped it was aptly named. Because Caoimhe Namis desperately needed an asylum.

Slowly she retreated from her meditations and when she opened her eyes again, the ship was exactly as she left it. But she stood and made her way to the bridge, settling her shaking hands on the worn and familiar controls before she shifted the trajectory of their flight just slightly. She took a deep breath - for the first time in five years, she was going to have to step outside the Ebon Hawk. It wasn’t a pleasant thought.

The shower was warm and surprisingly relaxing, despite the rampaging panic in her mind. And she did have to admit that being clean again did make her feel better about the whole thing. She looked in her closet and pulled out an unassuming beige outfit. It wasn’t particularly flattering, but it wasn’t particularly unflattering either. It would serve the purpose she needed it to. She left the hood down for now, but fully planned to throw it as far over her head as she could when she got to Asylum. She should check how far out they were.

To her surprise, T3 was out in the hallway waiting for her. And he didn’t immediate start berating her for changing the flight course without telling him. He gave a few reassuring beeps and gently nudged her leg.

She put a hand on top of him and smiled a little, “Thanks, Teethree. I’ll need you out there.”

She knelt and planted a kiss on the droid before she continued making her way to the bridge again, stopping at the navicomputer to see how far out they were.

Two standard hours.

That wasn’t a lot of time to prepare herself. She ran to the dormitory and grabbed her lightsaber from the top of her dresser, looking over the hilt and running her thumbs over the well-worn ridges. She always felt like she was bringing a bit of her family with her when she had that lightsaber with her, having made its way through generations, the only change made from person to person being the color of its crystal. She flicked it on and admired the light purple and blue hues that appeared. 

It wasn’t leaving the ship _per se_ that worried her. She’d left the Ebon Hawk to visit abandoned ruins before and that was fine. It was being so close to all the _people_ that panicked her. They were all so busy and loud and chaotic and unpredictable and overwhelmingly close to her. Not to mention all the pain they caused her. Not at all like the three programmed droids that she normally spent her time with. If it had just been the hyperdrive or the lack of food, she could have survived making the trip to a tiny port somewhere and have the things she needed delivered. But, no. Today the Galaxy was conspiring against her. Her stomach grumbled again and she realized she wasn’t breathing.

Maybe Asylum wouldn’t be as bad as she thought. Maybe she could get in and get out without incident, take three days to recover and move on.

Her hopes were too high.

As soon as she opened the exit hatch, she was hit with smells and sounds and a wave of hot metallic air. Her knees buckled and she unwrapped one of her hands from around her stomach and put it on T3 to steady herself. He beeped concernedly, but she just shook her head. Maybe if she started throwing up right there she wouldn’t have to actually leave the ship. No, it was already too far. If she did that now, she’d make a scene and people might actually come over to her, and that was worse than the thought of walking through the throngs of people. 

_Just go in, buy a bottle of vitamin capsules, and some protein powder. Then we can go home and pretend this never happened._

T3 rolled forward a little, urging her to follow him. She sucked in a breath, wrapped the scarf tighter around her neck, and held onto her bag’s shoulder straps tightly. She checked her pockets for the sixteenth time to make sure she had the credits she needed. 

Alright, it was now or never.

She inhaled and took a step forward, off the ramp and onto the ground. T3 beeped in encouragement and rolled further forward; she followed him, desperately trying to focus on the sensations of her feet on the ground and the number of steps she took rather than the dizzyingly crowded market in front of her. It was bright and vibrant, neighbors greeting each other, vendors advertising their goods. There were colors she hadn’t seen in years, smells she’d never imagined, and more sounds than she’d heard in her whole life combined. Her eyes scanned the market, looking for someone who might be safe to approach. 

A beep came from beside her and she nodded once as T3 sped off, promising to return shortly with the parts for the hyperdrive. Caoimhe shoved both of her hands in her pockets, and put her head down as she headed for one of the back corners of the market, hoping and praying that the crowds might have thinned back there. She ducked and swerved through the throngs of people, refusing to make eye contact or even lift her head up until they’d thinned enough that she could have a personal bubble again. Looking around again, she noticed a small stall to her left with a single patron in front of it. That looked safe enough, so she hesitantly made in that direction, stopping in front of it and examining the items that were for sale.

Thank the Force, they had vitamins and protein. She took packages of both, and started to hand them to the owner of the stall before a color caught her eye; bright green vegetables were stacked high off to the other side of the stall. She had no idea what they were.

The other patron looked her up and down and addressed her, “Life is more than vitamins and protein, you know.”

Caoimhe jumped back and nearly dropped the packages in her arms, too startled to say anything at all.

The other patron - a woman, in her middle ages in white and silver armor - smiled softly, the creases at the corners of her eyes deepening as she took the peppers Caoimhe had been eyeing and handed her one, “Have you had a Zakuulan pepper before?”

Caoimhe shook her head, eyeing it cautiously before biting it. It was sweet at first, crunchy and the skin was a little chewy, and it was delicious. But about two seconds into the second bite, she was hit with a wall of fire in her mouth; she tried to hide it as best she could, but once her eyes started watering, the other woman chuckled.

“Careful, they have a bit of a kick to them.”

“A bit!?” Caoimhe protested as she leaned over and tried to catch her breath. Her tongue prickled and her whole face hurt, but it was the most satisfying sensation she’d ever felt. 

Once she’d settled a moment later, she looked over to the stall owner, “I'll take twelve.”

The owner laughed and started throwing peppers into a bag, “It takes a special lady to feel the burn of the galaxy's spiciest vegetable and come back for more.”

“It's hard to believe there's a person on Asylum who hasn't tried them before. They're in just about everything.”

Caoimhe looked over to the woman, and suddenly very aware of the skepticism in her tone, spoke softly, “I've never been here before.”

Her eyebrow quirked up, “You just wandered your way here? Asylum isn't on many maps.”

She could feel her heart racing in her chest and she didn't trust herself to respond so she just nodded.

The other woman seemed to sense her panic, and her pale blue eyes softened, “I could show you more, if you'd like. My name is Senya.”

Senya held out one of her hands, clearly expecting her to shake it. But she couldn't do it. She’d already spent too much time here. Touching the woman would only make for a sure disaster.

She took out a handful of credits and shoved them on the counter, taking the bag of peppers and vitamins and protein and darting back off into the crowd. Mercifully, T3 was waiting for her at the foot of the ramp to the Ebon Hawk and followed her silently inside. As soon as the hatch was shut, she dropped the food on the ground and crumpled beside it. She put her hands to her face and let out a sob, overwhelmed and confused and absolutely crushed by loneliness. 

M8 stopped by to pick up the supplies she dropped and brought them diligently to the cargo bay, whistling while he went. The third member of the crew, a little hovering spherical remote droid, came bouncing by and nudged her gently. He beeped encouragingly, and she smiled a little.

“Thanks, buddy. I'll be okay. Can you let T3 know he can prepare to launch without me?”

An affirmative beep came from the little remote.

Caoimhe sighed and gathered all of her remaining energy to stand up and make it just far enough to the edge of her bed before she collapsed on it. She looked up at the ceiling and started counting her breaths. It was one of the few things she knew could calm her down, and she was going to need a lot of calming in the next few days as she processed her outing. But she did it. She got off the Ebon Hawk, bought supplies, talked to strangers, and made it back alive.

She hoped someone, somewhere was proud of her for that.

\---

_Pathetic._

_Coward._

_Weak._

His father’s voice rang in his ears as he trained, fueling his anger and his focus. He hit the sparring droid with his practice saber, grunting nearly silently as he did so. 

_There is no goodness in the Galaxy, only the strong and the weak. You will either overcome or you will die._

He screamed as he went for the next opponent, trying to drown out his father’s insults in his mind. It has been years since Valkorion had actually bothered to attend one of his training sessions. But Arcann always heard his taunts. It only focused his fury more. He leapt and danced around the room, spinning and striking at each opponent swiftly and gracefully. There were always more skytroopers to fight, just as there were always more insults for him to endure.

_You'll never amount to anything. You are a pestilence, an insect to be trod on. You will never reach greatness because you do not have the imagination to know what greatness actually is._

Vaylin sat on the railing of the training space, gnawing on the last of a pastry. She never ever joined him in training, but she frequently sat there and watched him. It was one of the few times they spent together just the two of them, and even if they didn't speak, it was a little less lonely. There was a spot in his chest that ached horribly at the thought.

_You let your brother take the fall for you! You don’t even have the courage to take responsibility for your own actions! Thexan died by your hand, not mine! And that is your burden to carry. Do not take your self-loathing out on me._

Crying was a weakness. He blinked the threatening tears back furiously as he dove for another pseudo-enemy. He missed. He swore. Vaylin was silent behind him.

_Your life is already defined. You cannot redeem yourself or atone for the things you’ve done. Your destiny is already laid out before you. Accept it._

It didn't matter. He’d already started planning the downfall of Valkorion. He’d been planning a new strategy since Thexan’s funeral. It gave him a purpose. And a distraction. Arcann pushed himself up to a knee, brushing off the dirt and growling at nothing in particular. He was not weak. He was strong, not defined by fate or destiny or whatever nonsense Heskal was spouting these days.

It didn’t matter what Heskal said. Vaylin was in. She jumped at the prospect of chaos and breaking the hold Valkorion had on her. Together, the three- no, _two_ -of them could change their destinies. They could rule Zakuul without the shadow of their father. They could live their lives without his constant hissing and berating and insulting. They could be free.

It didn’t matter that Thexan wouldn’t be there to help them. It was _Thexan_ , after all, who’d restrained Arcann the first time. It was _Thexan_ their father favored. He’d just get in the way.

It didn’t matter that the skin around the edges of his mask itched fiercely. He was dirty and he was sweaty and he was tired, but he had to keep training. It was the only way he would be strong enough to defeat Valkorion once and for all. His metal arm was whining at the joints, and his shoulder was straining to lift it. His legs felt rubbery, his head was starting to spin. But if he had any hope of finally destroying the Immortal Emperor, he himself had to become immortal, too. He’d already sent a wayward message out to Wild Space, rumors of the Sith Emperor, just loud enough for someone to hear. It would only be a few days before he had the opportunity to strike again.

The last enemy crumpled and fell before exploding; Arcann held out his hand in a weak shield that was just strong enough to keep the shrapnel from hitting him. The dust caught in his lungs and he coughed violently for a minute, trying to get enough oxygen to breathe again. Vaylin still sat on the railing behind him, sucking her fingers loudly. It was strangely endearing that she sat there and watched him without a word, eating her pastries and keeping her criticisms to herself. Scyva preserve, it wasn’t like anyone else in this palace did. 

At least not yet.

Arcann looked up to Vaylin, who grinned crookedly and waved; he nodded in return as he pushed himself back to his feet. No matter how many times he would be pushed to the ground, he’d rise again. He’d rise above the bullies, the trainers, his father. Someday he would be able to look himself in the eye in the mirror. Someday he’d be his own person, more than the puppet Valkorion was grooming him to be. 

He hoped Thexan would be proud of him for that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is entirely the fault of Defira85 and Angelicfangirl. They are endless sources of encouragement and enthusiasm and I love them both very much. Ysaine Pierce belongs to Defira, and I am forever in her debt for continuing to let me steal her. <3  
> Also Hover text!!! Over the Mando'a!!  
> And for those of you looking at Caoimhe and thinking to yourselves "this is too many vowels", her name is pronounced KEE-vah. It's a Gaelic name, and seemed like the right kind of thing to use for a girl who's been in space without human contact for too long.


	2. Death of an Emperor

The Emperor was dead.

The Force was constantly in motion, ebbing and flowing as life came and went in the universe, but there was no preparing for the swift and violent void created by the deaths of two very powerful force users. The first was one that Kalina could have dealt with - powerful, violent, strong. But Sith Lords died relatively frequently, so while the first death was noticeable and made her a little queasy, it could never have prepared her for the second.

The second echoed so loudly through the Force that Kalina felt it ripple through her bones, shaking her to her core. There was no mistaking the owner: the former Sith Emperor. Only someone as powerful as Vitiate could have caused such a massive force through the galaxy. Kalina breathed through her teeth as she felt the ensuing migraine wrapping around her skull, but she didn’t have the time to push it back before a third shock ripped through her, this time belonging to someone much closer to her.

_Raelyn._

Her heart was caught in her throat for a moment, hoping it wasn’t true but knowing Raelyn’s singular aura so well that it couldn’t have been anyone else. It couldn’t have been a coincidence that Raelyn and the Emperor’s deaths came so close together; Darth Marr must have been right about the Sith Emperor out in Wild Space. Not that it much mattered now. Her heart ached so immensely that she felt the pain through her whole body, the migraine only the start of it. She instinctively put a hand to her head, pressing against her temples even knowing she’d find no relief by doing it.

Felix seemed to sense her rolling emotions, sliding in beside her on the couch and wrapping his arms around her. He always claimed he was duller than a rock when it came to sensing the Force, but Felix was exceptionally good at reading people, especially his wife. Kalina shivered in surprise to his sudden touch, but leaned into him.

“Bad day, love?” he said barely above a whisper, nuzzling against her cheek gently.

Kalina wished she could manage a smile, that she could make some witty joke about that being the understatement of the century. But her voice refused to cooperate and as soon as she opened her mouth to reply, she started to cry instead. Felix was fumbling over apologies, and started to get up off the couch, but Kalina pulled him in and pressed her face into his shoulder. He smelled like soap and lavender, and his breaths on her forehead gave her something to focus on.

Nadia, bless her, came bounding up the stairs with myocaine tablets and water and sat on Kalina’s other side.

“You felt it, too,” she declared rather than asked as Kalina sat up and gratefully took the tablets and drink and threw them back.

She nodded but still didn’t trust her voice to reply.

Felix looked from one Jedi to the other, unsure of what and who to ask. Fortunately, Nadia took it upon herself to explain.

“The Sith Emperor was killed. And Darth Marr, if I’m sensing that right. And also Raelyn Politryk.”

Felix’s face went through a roller coaster of emotions as she said it - glee, suspicion, concern, grief. He rubbed Kalina’s shoulder and kissed her forehead.

“I’m sorry, love,” he whispered. She took his hand and leaned against him, but there was something pulling her, something small and quiet. She knew Nadia could feel it, too; she was playing with her hands, pulling at the skin and smudging the traditional blue paint she applied diligently every morning. It was something akin to the sensation she felt when Syo was fighting the First Son.

It was hope.

Kalina straightened, “Felix, can you help me up?”

He lunged to his feet even before the question was finished, long accustomed to Kalina’s disability. He held out his hands and pulled her up, rubbing his thumbs on the back of her hands until her equilibrium settled. It was never as quick a process as she wanted it to be.

“Everything okay?” he asked, looking her up and down, pausing his glance at her shaking knees.

She nodded, “Just need to focus.”

He tilted his head, “I’m not sure you can just focus to fix those wobbly knees of yours.”

She laughed a little, “The knees are long since shot. But there’s something in the Force, something I have to find.”

“You don’t have to be all Jedi-peaceful about this, you know,” he replied skeptically, “You can grieve like the rest of us.”

Kalina looked right into his beautiful dark eyes, her own eyes fierce and determined and clear, “I’m not grieving yet.”

\---

The Emperor was dead.

She had to pretend the tears streaming down her face were for him and not for Raelyn.

Lana stood over the sink in the public restroom, evening out her breaths as best she could. But it was hard to breathe when the woman you loved disappeared from your grasp. Rarely did Minister of Sith Intelligence show any emotion greatly, but then again, rarely did her lover’s aura implode in one fell swoop. She reached out with the Force, but there was too much interference, too much noise and panic throughout Dromund Kaas City, to feel anything beyond the sheer terror and confusion of the planet she was on. Every Sith felt the death of their Emperor, and it wouldn’t have surprised her if some of the Empire’s non-Force users could feel it too. She had never blindly worshipped their Emperor, but his absence from the galaxy left a gaping hole in the Force that was both uncomfortable and disconcerting. Not to mention the additional absence of Darth Marr, whose own Force signature had imploded moments earlier but had been completely overshadowed by the Emperor himself. And then Raelyn.

She turned her head and looked out of the window to watch the streets below, chaos erupting with the violent ripple. Taxis had stopped mid-flight - at least three of them had crashed into the ground - speeders caught on the fire, people were running and screaming and ducking for cover as if the world was going to end. Lana just shook her head and looked back to her face in the mirror; she’d certainly had better days. Taking a deep breath, she splashed cool water on her face and reached for a towel to dry it. To her surprise, it was Shara who handed it to her.

Shara, the former Keeper of Imperial Intelligence back before its collapse. She was a genetically modified human, created to process information faster than her colleagues, and though her body had degenerated under the effects of disease, her mind had not. And her mind was the reason Lana kept her as her second-in-command when she became the Minister of Intelligence.

“Thank you,” she muttered, taking the cloth and breathing deeply before she rubbed the water off her face.

Shara gave her a pained smile, “It is my pleasure, my Lord.”

Lana cringed internally at the formality of Shara’s tone. The very fact of being a Force-wielder raised her status so significantly, even without the personal accomplishments she’d gathered over the years. It pained her that others, more influential and prolific than she, would bow to her simply because she could shoot lightning out of her fingers. But that was the way of things in the Empire, and it kept a neat and orderly dichotomy. At least the Force didn’t suffer from nepotism like some of the military and civilian posts.

“If I may be so bold as to suggest, my Lord,” Shara continued quietly, “maybe you should take the chaos in the city as an opportunity to return to your own dwelling and meditate. The noise here is overwhelming even to those of us who could not feel the death of our Emperor and Darth Marr directly. I can only imagine what it must be like for you.”

Shara had a great deal of empathy for someone who was created and raised to be purely driven by logic and numbers and probabilities.

Lana shook her head, “There’s too much to do here.”

“I’ll handle it, my Lord,” Shara replied resolutely, hesitating before putting her hand on the Sith’s forearm, “Let me do this for you.”

There was a moment of silence in the small room; Lana searched in Shara’s eyes for anything meaningful, but they were dark and unreadable and she hardly had the energy to go snooping around in Shara’s thoughts. That seemed inappropriate at this particular moment anyway.

Finally, Lana bent her head and sighed, “Thank you, Shara. I’ll be back in the morning.”

“Before the sun has risen, as usual, I imagine.”

She gave a small smile, “There’s always work to be done.”

Shara nodded, taking her hand off the Sith’s arm and stepping backwards into the doorway, “Indeed there is, my Lord. I’ll leave you a full report.”

Lana thanked her again before she left.

Everything on Dromund Kaas was perpetually wet. Constant rainstorms and downpours will do that to a place, but it was like the Empire decided they didn’t need to do anything about it. Speeders still had open roofs, stone walkways were constantly slick, dirt paths were flooded or muddy up to your knees, and overhangs poured buckets of water on anyone who dared cross their thresholds. It was dark, wet, and with the coming of the relative winter - cold. A delightful combination of effects that only served to chill Lana to the bone and send aches through her shoulders and neck. Normally, she would have preferred to walk through the city to her apartment, but with the streets muddied and chaotic from the immensity of the crowds, Lana fought her own instincts and opted for the taxi.

As soon as the door to her apartment was closed and locked, she was stripping out of her armored uniform. She changed into something far more practical and warm, pretending that her clothes didn’t smell like her partner. That their shared apartment didn’t smell like her.

She took a deep breath. The chaos of the city was still overwhelming, but at least here outside its walls it was muffled a bit more. She rubbed her hand over her shoulders and neck, trying to get out the kinks and aches before she went to meditate. Her bare feet made no noise as she walked down the hallway; she would need to focus as much as possible to cut through the din outside.

She lit incenses in the chamber, walking its circumference deliberately and feeling the cool stone floor beneath her with every step. There were holocrons in each of the six corners of the space, each representing a tenant of the Sith Code. She touched each one lightly before she settled onto the cushions in the middle of the room, bowing her head and closing her eyes.

_Peace is a lie. There is only passion._

Her breathing steadied and then slowed as she concentrated on it. She drew breath into her lungs, feeling the air brush softly against her upper lip.

_Through Passion, I gain Strength._

Her heartbeat calmed, and the pounding against her chest eased. She flexed her hands to the rhythm of her pulse.

_Through Strength, I gain Power._

Her muscles softened, the ache between her shoulders and neck dulling and slowly dissipating. She rolled her shoulders and adjusted her posture.

_Through Power, I gain Victory._

Her still damp hair slid into her face as she bowed her head again. She didn’t move it.

_Through Victory, my chains are broken._

Her body and mind no longer acknowledged the room she sat in. It had fallen away and exposed the emptiness of space. There was nothing but her consciousness. And the Force.

_The Force shall set me free._

She could feel the ripples of the Force around her, the ebbs and flows, the waves and tides. It surrounded her, engulfed her, invigorated her, strengthened her for what she knew she must do. She reached out through the Force, searching, searching, _searching_ , unsure of whether she would find what she was looking for. The galaxy was enormous, filled with powerful Force-users, places strong with the Force, relics attuned to the Force. Each of them drew her attention, but never for long. She had a purpose today. A purpose beyond rejuvenating her spirit.

She had to find Raelyn. Had to determine if she was actually dead.

The chaos of the galaxy from the disappearance of the former Sith Emperor created incredible amounts of what could only be described as static. Emotions ran so high by so many, it fuzzied her senses. She could have stopped to drink in the fear and panic, but she didn’t. No need to fuzzy her perception even more.

Something pinged on the edge of her peripheral, drawing her attention. She might have said it _called her name_ if she didn’t know better. The Force did not have a physical voice. But there was no mistaking the pull she felt.

She fixated on it, a tiny voice begging to be released. Begging to show its true self again. Begging a parasite to leave it _alone, for fuck’s sake_. Begging to be healed. It was warm, rough, bright, and familiar despite its smallness. If she focused, she could separate the small presence from the parasite, which was equally restrained but shared none of the same qualities. The parasite was more of a void than a presence, trying to devour the other.

The room materialized in her consciousness again and Lana whipped open her eyes.

_Raelyn was alive._

With a flick of her wrist, the incense went out and the door to the rest of the apartment opened. She practically ran to the secure holoterminal; she’d had it secured ages ago, kept away from prying eyes as much as was possible in this day and age.

The blue image of the Barsen’thor materialized in front her, the same concerned but elated look on her face.

“Lana,” she greeted, clearly failing at keeping up her serene facade, “I take it you’ve felt her, too?”

She nodded, “Vitiate is with her.”

Kalina’s face fell and she paused, “I was hoping I was wrong about that.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Lana replied, shaking her head, “The former emperor is still out there, regardless of what others are saying. We need to gather this alliance.”

“I’m with you,” Kalina replied slowly, clearly skeptical of Lana’s first statement, “I’ll contact my allies and meet you... on Manaan, maybe? It wasn’t too long ago you were there, was it? I have a friend with a place there. It should be big enough for a budding alliance.”

“I’m not positive the natives will be overjoyed at my return given the previous circumstances for my stay there,” she replied pensively, holding back the wince at the memory of Raelyn’s face the first time they were forced to part ways on that very planet, “but I imagine their wounds have healed enough by this point.”

Kalina’s hands wrapped a little tighter around the staff they held, but her face made no indication that anything was amiss, “Excellent. I’ll let you know when I hear from Aelacc and we can go from there.”

Lana could feel her heartbeat growing louder in her chest as she thought about next steps - next steps in forming the alliance that had been _Raelyn’s_ brainchild. How many nights had she stayed up to listen to Raelyn plot and plan, stealing kisses whenever she walked past close enough to reach? Raelyn was _alive_ , and Force, wasn’t that a relief, but she still wasn’t _here_. And there was still no certainty that she would _continue_ to live.

She realized Kalina was looking at her curiously, and she shook her head to clear it, “That sounds agreeable. Until then, Master Lornacch.”

Kalina put a hand up as the Sith reached to terminate the call, “Lana, wait.”

She stopped abruptly, pursing her lips to a thin line.

“Find Raelyn,” the Jedi said quietly, “For her sake and for yours, don’t leave her to Vitiate. If he is as powerful as he says, we can’t leave her alone to be consumed by him.”

“Raelyn is stronger than you give her credit for,” Lana argued, pausing before dropping her voice, “but I will get her back. I’ll destroy the stars themselves if that’s what it takes.”

Kalina smiled gently, “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”

Lana’s eyes were still glowing fiercely, and she could feel the anger in her, but she managed to keep it in check and quirk an eyebrow up, “Indeed. I’d hate to see the economic repercussions of such an event.”

“Lana Beniko, is that a joke?”

“Is it really so surprising?” she asked with a grin that covered a lifetime’s worth of heartache.

Kalina laughed and Lana thought she could almost feel her warmth from where she stood. It was easy to forget that the red-haired woman before her was also an incredibly powerful Force-user. The emotions radiating from her now, bold and bright and strong, made it possible to forget the fact that she was leaning on a staff to keep herself upright.

“I’ll see you soon, Barsen’thor.”

Kalina winked, “Until then, Minister Beniko. Be safe.”

The visage of the Jedi disappeared, but Lana’s hand hovered over the controls still. She hesitated. What she was about to do wasn’t as treacherous as allying with a member of the Jedi Council, sure enough, but the risk was still high.

She took a deep breath and punched in the access code.

\---

The Emperor was dead.

Rimea put her datapad down on her lap and closed her eyes. News had spread throughout the galaxy in a matter of moments, and she had gotten dozens of notifications from any number of news sites - Republic, Imperial, Hutt, others - that the Sith Emperor had been found somewhere by Darth Marr and had been killed. But it wasn’t either of those names that bothered her.

The holoterminal dinged, and she shook her head and stood to answer it. The blue-ish figure of Lana Beniko manifested before her.

“Agent Phantom,” she said as a way of greeting, her golden eyes looking both fiercer and wearier than normal.

Rimea nodded shallowly and clasped her hands behind her, “Lord Beniko. What do you need of me?”

“I need you to locate someone.”

Rimea frowned, “My Lord, you do know I am no longer with Intelligence? Agent Phantom is merely a ceremonial title given to me after my unceremonious departure.”

Lana nodded, “I am aware. All the same, I need this done off the records and you’re the best option I have.”

She sighed internally, eyes flickering to the doorway opposite her and catching a glimpse of a child, skin rich and brown, eyes bright green, strands of dark hair sticking out in every direction.

Rimea pulled her attention back to the Sith Lord before her, “Very well, my Lord. I’ll use what contacts I have. Who am I looking for?”

The Sith Lord visibly drew in a breath, “Raelyn Politryk, the former Lord Wrath.”

She closed her eyes for a long moment, pressing her lips into a thin line. It wasn’t wise to keep a Sith Lord waiting, but it also wasn’t wise to berate one. Her jaw clenched to ensure the latter wouldn’t happen.

Rimea waited until her thoughts cleared before she replied slowly and quietly, “That is no small task you are asking of me.”

“And for many reasons, I know,” Lana replied, bowing her head slightly, “But all the same. Finding her may be key to saving the galaxy.”

It took all of her energy not to snort out of her nose. _Important for your galaxy, maybe, Beniko. Mine is just fine without her._ She caught herself before her thoughts swirled, reigning in her more displeased tangents. Lord Beniko seemed more reasonable than most, but she was still a Sith who could peek into someone’s brain at any time. Better not to risk it.

The Sith continued, “I’m sure you’ve read the reports that she was killed along with the former Emperor and Darth Marr.”

Rimea nodded.

“I can assure you those reports are false. Lord Politryk is alive, but she’s trapped somewhere with the Emperor in a weakened state. We need to find her before he overpowers her.”

The former agent pressed a hand to her head, “With all due respect, my Lord, you _know_ the history between us. You _know_ her part in my mental conditioning. Are you really so desperate that you need to come to me?”

Lana sighed, looking more tired by the minute, “I do know. And I also know that before she became an acolyte and you an Imperial agent, you were inseparable. And I know that you have the resources to find her. And the love to motivate you, even if you’ve buried it.”

“Brainwashing isn’t something you just _forgive_ or _get over_ ,” she argued, a tiny voice in her head screaming in fear as her voice dripped with bitterness.

Lana stared at her, eyes icy and unconvinced, “Then why have you continued to keep tabs on her over the last four years?”

Rimea floundered, flustered and frustrated, and threw her hands in the air, “Maybe because I want to make sure I never cross paths with my traitorous _sister_ again?”

She was shouting now, she knew. She was shouting and crying at a Sith Lord, dear stars she was shouting at the Minister of Sith Intelligence, the woman who helped kill the false Revan, the woman who forged an Alliance between Republic and Empire, the woman who _loved Rimea’s sister_. A woman who was grieving like she was, and was searching not just for a galactic savior but for her partner. Rimea’s face drained as she realized it, fear and guilt and regret all sinking in at once; she put a hand to the holoterminal and shook her head.

Lana, for her part, had taken the accusation calmly. She stood with a wide stance, but her hands were clasped behind her back. Her mouth moved as if she might give a rebuttal, but she remained silent and stoic, allowing the discomfort to fester between them.

“Very well,” she conceded at last, voice low, “I will not force you to take this on. I’ll find someone else.”

Rimea exhaled, “Thank you, my Lord.”

Lana nodded silently and disconnected the call. Rimea braced herself against the holoterminal with her arms, letting her head hang, but it wasn’t more than a moment before she was sitting on the floor with her head in her hands. How many times had she had that conversation with herself? At least a dozen in the last three years, wondering why she continued to keep track of the sister who betrayed her. But she continued to do it. Raelyn had called her six or seven times, left messages apologizing, wanting to mend the rift between them. All of her messages went unanswered.

Sith Lords were not to be trusted. Not even a sister. Especially not a sister who had lobbied the Dark Council for her mental conditioning. Even if the alternative had been to die, that might have been a better option.

Two little arms wrapped themselves around her neck and Rimea opened her eyes to see her son burying himself in her chest. She wrapped her arms around him and pressed a kiss into his hair.

“Mama?” he asked, his little voice wavering with worry.

“Shh, mama’s alright, Rippir,” she cooed softly.

“We’re sorry, love,” another quiet voice apologized, “He ran out of our quarters to find you and we could not catch him.”

She looked up into the calming black eyes of her husband.

“That’s alright,” she said, a smile tugging at the edges of her lips, “I needed a Rippir hug.”

The little boy squeezed his arms tighter around his mother. Rimea put a hand out and touched Vector’s arm before pulling him down to join the family hug. Rippir squeaked excitedly as he was squished between his parents, giggling and squirming as he tried to hug both of them at the same time.

And it was in that moment that Rimea answered Lana’s question truly. She kept a watch on Raelyn because she was _grateful_. Were there probably better alternatives than mind control? Sure. Could Raelyn have warned her about that turn of events? Probably. Was it still brave of her to take on the Dark Council to save her sister? Yes. And were the torments Rimea went through part of the journey that led her to this moment, now in the arms of the two boys she loved the most? Absolutely.

She was grateful that she was alive. That Raelyn stepped in and risked her own life to keep her from facing certain death for defying Darth Jadus. That she could sit here now with a family who loved her because of her sister’s actions.

Didn’t Raelyn deserve the same?

Rimea sighed into Vector’s shoulder. It had been a long time since she’d done much work as a spy. But she would find Raelyn. She’d go to the ends of galaxy to give Raelyn the chance she gave Rimea.

\---

The Emperor was dead.

Again.

She sat outside in the sunlight, the sea breeze rustling her lekku gently as she sat in meditation. The scar on her face itched absently, but she kept her hands on her knees, focusing on the warmth of the sun on her face and the sensation of the breeze against her skin. The air and water of Manaan was supposed to be especially good for healing, though Aelac’camo generally found it was more effective on physical ailments than mental ones. Still, her daily meditations cleared her head, and the planet was pleasant. She tried not to think of all the people in the galaxy who didn’t have the luxury of a warm peaceful day and meditation to calm their anxieties.

She also tried not to think of the millions of lives lost on Ziost due to her inaction.

“Hello, Padawan,” a familiar voice greeted, his presence manifesting through the Force before her.

Aelacc didn’t open her eyes, but she couldn’t help the smile that spread across her face, “Hello, Master Orgus.”

“You still haven’t taken me up on the offer to visit my old home,” he said.

She raised one of her tattooed eyebrows, “I’ll go there when I’m ready to leave Manaan.”

“Manaan can’t heal everything, Aelac’camo,” he replied gently, striking right to the heart of the matter.

She frowned but didn’t respond to him, trying to focus on her meditations again.

“Please,” he urged, “it will do you good to get back out there.”

There was a long pause before Aelacc exhaled in defeat and opened her eyes, “Okay. I’ll head to Rishi with Kira tomorrow morning.”

Master Orgus sat on his knees, a knowing grin plastered to his face, “Excellent. I look forward to seeing you there.”

And he was gone. Aelacc sigh and pressed her hands into her thighs before standing up. She supposed there was no use in meditating further at this point, as much as she might like to. Besides, the protective oils she applied to her lekku were probably wearing off by now and she should get out of the sun before they got burned. She took her time crossing the courtyard, though, relishing in the sunlight that warmed her. As she recalled, Rishi was mostly jungle, hot and damp and humid. It would be an unpleasant change from the beauty of Manaan’s oceans, but she’d spent too long here anyway. She made a mental note to check on her armor before she and Kira left in the morning.

The filtered air inside her house - it was really more of a palace, far too big and lavish for a single Jedi, but the family who had built it gave it to her as a gift and it would have been far too rude to refuse it - hit her face with a cool burst as she entered. The shades were drawn in the hallway, dimming the brightness of outside as well as acting as an energy collector, sending the stored sunlight to the generator that powered the house.

It took a minute for her eyes to adjust to the dimness, but she walked the familiar hallways easily, making her way to the kitchen that overlooked the rest of the property. The firaxa were mating this time of year, and they were restless just beneath the surface of the water, chasing each other, poking through to the air. The sun reflected off the water brilliantly, breaking only for the occasional fin or head of the creatures below. Manaan was so fascinating and had so much to teach her about life in the galaxy, she felt guilty that she’d spent most of her time here just trying to catch her breath and settle her racing mind.

She looked back at the kettle she filled and grabbed a bag of tea from the cupboard as it heated.

Her heart raced when she heard a rumbling coming from just beyond the horizon, and her eyes leaped back up to the window, scanning for the source of panic. A burnt red ship came into sight not long thereafter, and Aelacc breathed a sigh of relief once she recognized it. She smiled to herself and pulled out another mug and bag of tea.

When she curled up on the couch with a datapad a few moments later, tea on the table next to her, the elevator dinged and she heard the triplet rhythm _pad-tap, pad. Pad-tap, pad._

“Hello, Master Lornacch,” Aelacc greeted with a grin, finally looking up to the pale face of the Barsen’thor.

Kalina smiled and leaned against her staff, “Good morning, Master Aelac’camo.”

She had dark circles under her eyes, and her hair was not pinned back as neatly as it usually was. Aelacc wondered silently if they were the result of the degenerative nature of the shielding technique Kalina learned more than three years ago, or if her appearance was because of the events of the last few weeks. From the message Kalina had sent her, it sounded like she may have had more than a few sleepless nights recently.

Regardless, Aelacc moved her hand to invite Kalina to join her, “Come in, come in. Where are Felix and Nadia?”

Kalina sat with a wince and gently laid her staff on the floor near her feet, “They’re outside talking with Kira. But these shits” - she gestured to her knees - “started getting cranky, so I left them to it.”

Aelacc nodded, but looked her over with concern, “Does Maraalor know?”

She waved her hand dismissively, “Maraalor has his own battles to sort out. He’s seen enough of me.”

“He’s still dating that spy, huh?”

Kalina’s blue eyes glistened a little mischievously, but she just grinned and sipped her tea in response. They sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes, drinking tea and enjoying the sunshine outside.

Once they finished their drinks, Aelacc took the empty mugs to the sink, asking as she went, “Your message said something about wanting to use my building? For, how did you word it? _Tactical preparations_?”

There was a nervous chuckle behind her, “Ah, yeah. That seemed the safest way to put it.”

Aelacc stopped rinsing the mugs and looked over her shoulder, “Safest? What exactly do you intend?”

Kalina looked up from her hands in her lap to meet Aelacc’s violet eyes, “An interfaction alliance with members of both the Republic and Empire. We need a place on a neutral world to meet.”

“An alliance? But, why? The Emperor is…” her voice trailed off as it dawned on her.

“Unfortunately, not as dead as previously thought.”

Aelacc put a hand to her mouth, suddenly very aware that his presence was still in the galaxy, a tiny, persistent voice fighting and clawing. Just as twisted and evil as it was the first time she struck him down. She’d again failed the galaxy. She’d failed in redeeming him ( _twice_ , she reminded herself), she’d failed in diplomacy, she’d failed in healing him. Even when she had to throw aside her own morality and kill him, she’d failed. She’d seen him, heard him on Yavin IV, and felt him worming his way into the galaxy for a second time since then. She’d witnessed his return to decimate a planet and now who knows what.

Kalina’s arms were around her, “Shh shh easy, easy. It’s not your fault.”

Normally she’d protest the touch and her skin would be crawling, but Kalina’s presence was so calming and she was so warm and real. She was shaking so hard she thought she might force Kalina to unwrap her arms, but she didn’t. She ran her hands over Aelacc’s lekku softly and sent a shiver down the Twi’lek’s spine, which seemed to stop the shaking for now.

Kalina stepped back and looked her in the eyes, “You okay?”

She shook her head, “I let this happen.”

“Aelacc,” Kalina murmured, clearly hiding some physical pain she was bearing to comfort her friend, “you did more to prevent this than anyone else. Than everyone else combined, actually. It’s not your fault he’s an undead bastard who doesn’t understand the word ‘no’.”

She smiled a little at Kalina’s word choice. The Barsen’thor did have a certain way with words.

“I know you feel like you failed yourself when you struck him down, Aelacc,” she continued, “but you were _alone_ , fighting a monster with nothing more than your lightsaber and your conviction that he would choose to redeem himself if you could say the right thing. I don’t know if he can ever be redeemed, but if you’re willing to fight him again, you won’t do it alone.”

Aelacc looked at her, soft purple meeting vibrant blue, and she exhaled, “I don’t know if I could kill him again.”

“No one is asking you to. If and when the time comes for that, no one will make you go unless you want to,” Kalina paused and winked, “And I’ll fight anyone who tries to.”

Aelacc blew out of her nose in a laugh, “You’ll need new knees for that.”

“Oh it's much more than my knees that will need replacing,” she replied with a laugh, “now help me get back to the couch and we can start working on collecting this alliance.”

\---

The Immortal Emperor was dead.

A new reign had just began. _His_ reign.

Arcann sat with his legs splayed on the throne, taking up as much space as he could. The throne was entirely his. He worked hard for it, and he wasn’t letting anyone even think of taking it from him.

Vaylin was happy enough as High Justice; she could wreak as much destruction as she wanted so long as she could support a claim that it was for the good of Zakuul. And she always could. Her eyes gleamed a brilliant golden-orange these days, full of life and exuberance, and Arcann had decided long ago that he’d rather Vaylin destroy Zakuul altogether than see her face when he saw her on Nathema again. So when she came bouncing into the throne room with the head of a Scion under her arm, he repressed a smile.

“This one’s all dead,” she announced gleefully, “Don’t worry, he told me where the others are before I killed him. I already sent the Knights ahead, but I wanted to see the look on your face.”

He nodded, “Good. Soon the galaxy will know that I will not be defined by the visions of fanatics. I am beyond prophecy.”

She drop-kicked the head over the side of the walkway, “Of course you are. I just didn’t like Heskal. I can’t wait to find his head and mount it for my room.”

He looked at her, blinking through the uneasy feeling in his stomach at the image of rotting corpses in her bed chambers.

But Vaylin just laughed, “Kidding! Please, his coloring clashes with my decor, I would never hang _his_ head on my wall.”

Arcann made a mental note to have one of the servants check on her space… just in case.

She circled around the throne, dragging her fingertips along the chair as she went, musing, “What shall we do once the Scions are gone, brother? Root out the anarchists? Or expose the doubters? Or blow up a star just for fun?”

Arcann put his robotic arm to his chin, “I think it might be time for the rest of the galaxy to know they have a new Emperor.”

Vaylin stopped beside him, a wicked grin spreading across her face, “Oohh yes, I like that idea. Should we blow up a planet? Just in case they might rebel?”

He looked to her, “Perhaps we can leave it intact. As a reminder of what will happen to traitors and upstarts.”

She put her hands together in front of her in delight, “You must have some planets in mind, brother. Don’t keep me in suspense.”

He spun the ring on his finger around a few times as he thought. It was true, he had thought of multiple planets he could target. Coruscant, Korriban, Dromund Kaas, Alderaan. They were politically or economically important to the pathetic Republic or vastly inferior Sith Empire. However, while destroying them would certainly send a clear message that Zakuul was not to be trifled with, he would also hinder his own gain by doing so. He needed a planet with symbolic meaning that didn’t necessarily have many raw resources. Coruscant would have been the obvious choice, being the most densely populated planet in the Republic. But there were a trillion people on that planet, and it’s also where the Republic government resided, and while he could attack every Republic planet individually, it would be much more efficient to leave the Republic Senate intact where it was and allow them to surrender everything to him all at once. Korriban held spiritual and cultural importance to the Empire, being the place of the Sith Academy, but he and Thexan had long ago razed that to the ground. Dromund Kaas held the Dark Council, who essentially ran that Empire nowadays, though theoretically there was a Sith Emperor who oversaw them. Wherever they were. And Alderaan looked at first like it might do, but the planet was rich in resources and specialized in a particular kind of maple syrup that Vaylin adored. He figured it was probably best to leave them alone for now. When the time came to occupy, then he would strike at Alderaan, but he didn’t want to risk his sister’s wrath for wiping out her favorite sweet.

Vaylin blew out of her mouth petulantly, “You haven’t got a clue, do you?”

He raised his eyebrow at her but said nothing. He was a man of action, after all. Not of words.

“Pfft fine. Come and get me when you decide. I’m going to the kitchens.” And with that, she skipped down the walkway and disappeared into the elevator.

Arcann realized he was fidgeting with the ring on his hand, and immediately switched to tapping his fingers impatiently before he stood up. The Eternal Fleet sat dormant outside the Spire, awaiting his commands. His face prickled at the thought of wielding such a singular power as the Fleet. _He_ was in charge now. _He_ controlled the Eternal Empire. _He_ controlled his own destiny. With the Scions fleeing into hiding, he wouldn’t have to hear them taunting him anymore. He wouldn’t have to hear them whispering to his father as if he couldn’t hear them. He wouldn’t have to see their disapproving glances, and pitying faces as he walked by them. He wouldn’t have to hear Heskal tell him with complete certainty that he would amount to nothing more than a total failure.

Heskal was _wrong_.

He’d _succeeded_. And he would continue to prove to the galaxy what a _successful_ ruler could do.

A voice coughed from beside him, startling him enough that his reaction was to throw out his robotic arm and choke the perpetrator. He turned his head purposefully so his good eye could make out who it was.

A Knight.

Arcann put them down with a growl, “Do _not_ snea- do _that_.”

“A-a-apologies, your Highness,” the Knight grovelled, “The tacticians want to know what planet you’d like to attack.”

He thought for a moment, letting the Knight squirm in discomfort.

“Iridonia,” he growled, “Nearly wiped out by the Mandalorians three hundred years ago. A perfect example of how cultures survive and rebuild. Yes. That is the perfect target.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shara is the lovely Defira85's name for Watcher Two/Keeper in the Imperial Agent storyline. She has all sorts of thoughts on what happened to Shara after Imperial Intelligence fell apart, you should ask her about it.


	3. For Love and Planet

_Raelyn,_

_I find myself missing you the most in the mornings, before the sun has risen. That time when the world stands still and it is us alone. When I would get out of bed to get ready for the day and you’d sling your arm over my waist and pull me in, asking sleepily for me to stay._

_You never liked mornings._

_But I loved you in them._

_The bed - our bed - is colder without you. Empty. The extra pillows are a poor stand-in for you. And they’d never curl up beside me and press kisses to my stomach. They’d never run their fingers through my hair (and frankly, even the thought of that is somewhat disturbing). They’d never release all the tension in my body with a single smile or touch. I find myself cursing every morning that comes without you._

_I know now that you’re out there, somewhere. That you haven’t left me forever. I know you’re alive and I know you’re fighting. Our separation is only temporary, and we will be reunited again. But it doesn’t change the fact that we are separated_ now _. And it doesn’t change the fact that I miss you. Mornings aren’t the same without you._

_You may not receive this until after we meet again, but I hope you know I’ll move the stars to find you._

_Kalina said a letter to you might relieve whatever grief I’m feeling. I assure you, I am not grieving. All the same, it is cathartic to get this in writing._

_I love you._

_With all my heart,_  
_Lana_

\---

“Surrender? _Surrender!?_ What in the seven hells of Corellia do you mean, ‘ _surrender_ ’?”

“Exactly what you think it means, Minister Aoide,” Councilman Baern replied evenly.

She was already standing, already had her hands on the table, already about ready to flip the damn thing over and fight a war her damn self, “We can’t surrender! We can’t just hand over our planet, our _home_ to a group of invaders! We’ve fought for centuries to keep our home in our own hands, and you think that now it’s acceptable to just give in?! How _stupid_ are you!?”

“Minister, please,” the councilwoman beside her, Pet-raya, urged, “this is no longer a debate. We have made the decision to pull our armies and negotiate with Exarch Kun.”

“Ancestors above, you’re kidding. Not only was I - the _Minister of Defense_ , I remind you - not consulted in this, but his fucking name is _Exarch Kun_?”

“Her name, actually,” Baern corrected, still righteous and condescending, “And yes. You were decidedly emotionally compromised, and therefore not invited to the chamber. As you recall, _Minister_ Aoide, you are not a Council Member and therefore, not invited to every meeting we have. If you perhaps knew your place in our government, you would have been invited to that one.”

Her eyes narrowed at the implied accusations, and the fringes of her vision were getting redder with every word from the Council. They were all _idiots_. She was the goddamn _Minister of Defense_ , and she knew very well the true reason they hadn’t invited her to the discussion until this point. She hadn’t served in the Republic military, as leader of one of the most decorated units in history no less, and come home to Iridonia to be subjected to _this_. To be treated like a child throwing a temper tantrum. She had been a Major, she had been the leader of Havoc Squad, and she left that all behind to come home, to serve her own people and a government she _thought_ would treat her better than Saresh’s Republic.

She was sorely regretting that decision at this moment.

Aoide looked around the room, meeting the eyes of every single council member, forcing them to realize the implications of their decision. They had doomed the planet to another destruction and they hadn’t even consulted their most senior expert on war. She’d been fighting for Iridonia and the Republic for as long as she was physically strong enough to wield a weapon, and because she had the audacity to care about the future of her homeworld, somehow that meant she was suddenly unqualified to testify about giving it up.

Fucking idiots.

“We brought you here today as a courtesy,” a third councilman, Louh Dai, explained sheepishly, as if he’d been given the lines and told to recite them, “We have three shuttles ready to evacuate leading citizens and Council members off world. You and your family will be on the second one, which leaves tomorrow morning from the spaceport.”

The blood drained from her face as he said it and she realized what decisions they’d made. These council members just decided who lived and who died when Zakuul burned the planet. Aoide hung her head. Of course she would be chosen. She was a symbol of Iridonian contributions to the Republic. She’d be a bargaining chip, a bribe for some Republic world to take them in. There were massacres already happening in the Capital City, reports of tens of thousands of Zabraks and Iridonians killed by Zakuulan Knights and Skytroopers. It was only a matter of time before they overtook Wortan, too.

“You are no coward, Aoide,” Pet-raya soothed, “but even you must admit that this will be a losing battle. We must save who we can.”

“Your version of who deserves to be saved and mine are a little different,” she sighed wearily. Bloody politicians.

“Please, Aoide, think of your girls. Your husband,” Pet-raya urged, clearly concerned that Aoide would do something irrevocably stupid. Which, in fairness, was probably warranted at this point.

She rubbed absently at the scar on her neck - a gift from the last time Iridonia had been occupied by an enemy force. The Sith, at least, had left the cities standing, but they’d enslaved all the natives. Aoide wasn’t sure which kind of occupation she preferred.

Aoide’s voice was hoarse and quiet when she finally replied, “I won’t leave my home to burn.”

The other Council members just gaped at her, utterly flabbergasted that she wouldn’t take the safe route and flee. Offended that she wasn’t grateful she was among the number they planned to save. Confused that she would risk the deaths of herself and her family to fight a futile war against an overpowered enemy.

But Aoide didn’t hear their reactions. She was already out the door, pulling out her commlink.

The stern face of her Lieutenant manifested before her, “Sir?”

“Elara, I need you to take the girls and go into Banol.”

Dorne’s thick Imperial accent shook only slightly, “Zakuul is here? How long do we have?”

“Days, if we’re lucky. Get the girls in first, I’ll gather our forces.”

She nodded, “I’ll send the message you prepared to the citizens.”

Aoide nodded, “Good. Hopefully I’ll meet you in a couple hours. Tell the girls-”

“-You love them,” Elara finished, already with her nose in a datapad, “Yes, sir. I’ll see you soon.”

There was a quiet click and Elara disappeared from view. Aoide shoved her commlink in her pocket and wrapped her scarf tighter around her face. The winter winds were harsh to begin with on Iridonia, but even more so in the canyon city of Wortan. Icy drops flew off the Aro River, hitting anyone with what felt like tiny knives. The city stretched into the cliffside with tunnels and caverns, and there the ice droplets wouldn’t reach you, but outside, the wind howled and whipped around the buildings, so strong it could knock you off your feet if you weren’t careful. The farmland outside the city would be fallow this time of year; nothing could grow in this weather. The wind echoed through the almost entirely empty streets. Even without the impending invasion, the outer city was mostly abandoned this time of year; folks typically stayed inside the protected tunnels. The Zakuulan invasion had only hurried this process. Many folks had tried to get off world once they heard Zakuul had invaded the Capital City, and the rest retreated underground further inland. But a few of the braver Zabraks were out, going about their routine as normally as possible.

There was a great stone fountain in the middle of the city in the great open square that commemorated the part of Bao-Dur and the other Zabraks in the Mandalorian and following Jedi Civil Wars. She somehow doubted that her ancestor would appreciate a statue in his likeness, but Bao-Dur himself was probably the most recognizable symbol of the struggle of all Iridonians, everything they’d overcome to simply exist as a people. Wortan and the Capital City were the only two major cities simply because it had taken them this long to rebuild their entire planet from scratch. Aoide shuddered to think that they might have to do it again.

She looked over the bridge at the Aro River, its edges coated in a thin layer ice, but the center still flowed, albeit somewhat less fiercely than in the spring and summer months. The wind hit her face again and she shielded it with her arm. She took a deep breath and stepped up onto the platform of the statue; she probably didn’t really need the stairs, given her considerable height, but she knew her status as an Iridonian symbol, and she knew she’d need every advantage. Heavy handed as the symbolism may be.

She threw her holocomm out in front of her a few feet and it buzzed to life, ready to broadcast to all receiving channels.

“People of Wortan, and of Iridonia,” she began, and she could swear she could hear her own echo, “the time has come to once again defend our homeworld. This time it is not the Sith, not the Mandalorians, but an outsider. An outsider who would make an example of us and our struggles. Zakuul is trying to send a message to the galaxy, this much is obvious. But we will not let them find an unoccupied city. We will not let them find a group of passive, frightened citizens. We will fight tooth and nail for our homes, for our cities, and for our planet. If you wish to flee to safety, I will not judge you, will not stand in your way. The Council has generously provided travel off world, and if you feel you need to use it, please do. But if you are able and willing to fight, then stand beside me. Stand beside me and fight for Iridonia. There may be skytroopers in our Capital city, but that doesn’t mean they’ve won. Meet me in Memorial Square and we will begin our counterattack. Bring your weapons, your armor, and your hearts. We will not lose. They may have numbers on their side, but we have the passion of the Zabraks with us.”

She clicked off the comm and waited. But she didn’t need to wait long. Within the hour, folks were pouring into the square, holding their rifles, their blasters, their shotguns, their vibroblades. Most of them had some kind of armor, but she made a note to have Elara hand out the extra armor she’d gotten.

It wasn’t like the Zakuulan attack had surprised them greatly; they’d been encroaching on Republic and Imperial space for more than a year now. They’d attacked Korriban first and decimated the Sith Academy, and had only continued since then. But something had changed in the last few months. Their tactics were haphazard, less ordered. It happened around the time news came about of the death of the Sith Emperor. It was then that Aoide decided the Council of Iridonia and their Governor were about as useful as a wet Cathar. They were too busy trying to run for reelection to take her concerns under advisement. So she’d taken matters into her own hands and started sending out messages to the citizens of Wortan, instructing them, planning with them.

She’d spent the last year studying the tactics of the Zakuulan armies. Their Force-using Knights were formidable, and likely to create tremendous amounts of chaos and destruction, but they mostly relied on their droid army - the skytroopers. They were remarkably advanced, but they were still droids. She’d gotten a message to Forex, asking for his analysis, to which he’d replied, _Why, of course! Having been made for war myself, I’d be delighted to send you a comprehensive list of their weaknesses._ And she’d gotten a detailed report about an hour later.

Aoide felt someone at her elbow, and turned to see Tetri’an. Probably the only other Zabrak who had fought for Iridonia as much as she had, Tetri’an become her de facto Lieutenant. She was no Aric Jorgan, but she certainly had the skills and the determination to make a good leader. Tetri’an was younger than Aoide, but had been fighting by her side since before Aoide joined Republic Special Forces. She’d been in wars her whole life, and in the process become Aoide’s protege and her most trusted advisor. Tetri’an held out Aoide’s assault cannon, and she took it gratefully; that weapon had made it through hell and high water with her, and feeling its worn handle beneath her hands put her at ease. There was no substitute for a faithful weapon.

Tetri’an nodded and stepped back into the growing crowd. There were a few other faces she recognized: Aruha Adarious, Toras Metai, Edaru-Mehi, Polipyti Narthex, but mostly the faces she saw were relative strangers. And there were a lot of them. Far more than she thought there would be.

Her comm vibrated in her pocket. She looked at the ID of the caller and snorted before pocketing it again; Councilman Baern, probably calling her to complain that she had just offered their shuttles to the entire population of Wortan. Either that, or calling to complain that they had already decided to make terms with Zakuul and here she was gathering an army to fight back. Either way, it wasn’t a conversation worth having.

Aoide looked out into the crowd, waiting for the stragglers to arrive before she started to divide out and explain their tasks. Elara was the last one in, and she gave Aoide a single nod.

“Zabrak of Wortan,” she cried, her voice booming and echoing through the canyon, “I am eternally grateful that you have chosen to stay and fight. All of our ancestors would look at us and beam with pride at the bravery of their descendents.”

There were a few whispers in the crowd, of thanks to the ancestors, of impatience to start destroying the invaders, of worry for their families who now hid in Banol - the tunnels furthest into the cliffside that had collapsed during the Mandalorian War. They’d since been dug out and fortified, but generally went unused. Whether it was out of some superstitious caution or just habit, Aoide couldn’t say. But it functioned well as a safehouse. Easily defendable, well hidden, and far enough into the cliff that it would take a meteoric-level destruction to collapse it again. Aoide began by addressing their concerns about the Banol, by acknowledging the enormous risk they were all taking by standing with her - not just the risk of death, but of disapproval by their governing body. She couldn’t promise there’d be no administrative action taken against them even should they win Iridonia back.

She then split the crowd before her into five main groups: one to meet the Zakuulan army at the western entrance of the city, one for the eastern entrance, one to guard the inner city and Banol, one to hold the center of the outer city, and one to take rocket launchers up onto the cliff. Wortan was certainly not a metropolis by Republic standards; there were no extensive skyscrapers, there was plenty of walking and breathing space between buildings, and the city itself did not sprawl over hundreds of thousands of acres. In fact, the visible part of Wortan - the outer city - probably did not strike an outsider as a city at all. But there was enough variety in the buildings to provide for decent cover. And the Iridonians knew the secrets to the terrain, the turns of the streets through the city, the routes through the labyrinths of the inner city. They were going to put up one hell of a fight.

Aoide appointed leaders to each of the groups, and instructed Tetri’an to begin setting up demolition under the bridge. The Aro River was deadly for organic beings, if they could get the circuitry of the skytroopers fried in it, that would certainly be a good start to this war.

The word hung in her head for a moment. Aoide had seen far too much war in her nearly forty years in this galaxy. She’d made decisions that separated families and killed friends, she’d seen heartbreak and grief hundreds of times over, and felt them herself dozens more. Once she’d sent each group off with their designated leaders, she pulled out her datapad and composed a letter.

_Aric,_

_You’ve probably heard. Zakuul is here on Iridonia. You also know me well enough to guess that I’m not running. The girls are with Elara, and if they make it out of this alive, that will be enough._

_I love you always,_   
_A-_

She swallowed hard and brought her scarf farther up her face, sending up a quick prayer to her ancestors.

They didn’t have to wait long for the Zakuulan army to appear. They came in the middle of the morning the next day, their stomping echoed through the canyon as they traveled up the Aro, and even inside the Banol, Aoide heard it. She looked to Elara, who was already pulling on her armor like some kind of psychic. Four pairs of eyes were trained on Aoide, and even in the dimness of the cavern, she saw her four daughters’ faces etched with worry and fear. She took each of them and kissed their heads, kneeling in front of them all.

“Miss Elara will be here to keep you and the others safe,” she explained gently, “but I need you to look out for each other, okay? Charli, Andi, I need you both to be brave for me, okay?”

The two Zabrak girls nodded fiercely, but there were tears in their eyes.

“Hold on to Ava and Trace. They’ll need you.”

Charli, the younger of the two and about six years old, threw her arms around her mother, “Come back soon, Mama.”

She kissed her and pulled the other three girls in, as well, “I will. I love you all.”

“To the moons and back,” Andi, the oldest of them at nine, whispered.

“To the moons and back,” Aoide echoed with a squeeze.

“Sir,” Elara interrupted, a hand to her ear, “Tetri’an reports five squadrons of skytroopers on the western horizon, about half an hour out.”

Aoide nodded and stood, “Let’s win a war.”

She nodded to every fighter on her way out of the tunnels, ready to position herself in the center of the outer city, where the fighting was likely to be the heaviest. Aruha would join her, and between the two of them, they could lay enough cover fire to give the snipers on the roofs of the taller buildings an opening. The eastern group would fill in the ranks around the city, leaving a few behind to make sure Zakuulan reinforcements didn’t surprise them. The folks in the tunnels would serve as a final defense. There was a whirring of engines and Aoide looked up to see the last shuttle taking off. A single rocket went off from the west and her heart was caught in her throat for a moment before a second shot came from the cliffs and intercepted the first, creating a glorious explosion in the sky but left the shuttle unarmed. Aoide breathed a sigh of relief as it exited the cloudy atmosphere. If they failed here, at least there would be someone to rebuild Iridonia.

She turned to Aruha, who held an assault cannon that was bigger than she was, and raised an eyebrow, “Yeah? An assault cannon?”

“What, I’m four foot eleven and suddenly I can’t help?”

Aoide shook her head, and Aruha grinned at her victory.

It was only a matter of minutes before the western defense reported contact with the enemy. Aoide pulled up her own assault cannon and readied it, aiming through the buildings to the road that led out of the city. The rest of the fighters were hidden between the structures, inside them, or up on the rooftops, away from her line of fire. Aruha had the same line of sight to the east.

Her heart clenched when the first line of skytroopers were visible: they were startlingly white, marching synchronously, the echoes of their steps rattling the loose rocks on the edges of the cliffs. From the sounds alone there must have been _thousands_ of them. And the golden armor of the Knights dotted the formation; about a dozen of them were in the front, and the rest surrounded the block of skytroopers. They all wielded blue lightsaber pikes, and they dragged the light behind them, leaving scorch marks in the ground.

One of the Knights caught her eye before she started to fire; their armor was gold like the others, but the helmet had half circle protrusions on either side, and they donned a long cape with embroidered designs in black. Their lightsaber was gold, and they were the only Knight in the middle of the skytrooper block. She heard Tetri’an in her ear confirm her suspicions: Exarch Metella Kun herself had joined the battle.

The first round of rifle shots knocked down the first block of skytroopers and their formation scattered wildly into the city. Other Iridonians flung grenades into the remaining groups, ducking out of the way of shrapnel from exploding droids. And Aoide began to fire down the road as soon as the first Knight was in range. She’d fought enough Sith to know that she’d have one hell of time trying to stay alive in close combat, and these fuckers had all the power and precision of the Sith without the sloppy emotional baggage.

For the first time in a long time, Aoide was terrified.

But she stood her ground and fired, keeping the road as clear as she could and protecting the square. Skytroopers piled up at the entrance to the city, and their comrades had to climb over them to enter, allowing the snipers and grenadiers to hit them from above. The Knights simply hurdled the bodies and searched the streets for the Zabrak fighters, but even they were met with frustration as the fighters sprinted through the streets with stealth generators, the others leaving smoke bombs in their wake as they sprinted for cover. Exarch Kun herself strode into the city, clearly in a huff of annoyance. Someone had given her the impression that Iridonia was willing to give Zakuul free reign of the place. Aoide smirked as she hurled one of her own grenades for the Zakuulan leader.

She sorely regretted that decision as Kun held up her hand and stopped the grenade mid-air before she clenched her fist and exploded it prematurely. The smoke cleared quickly and the Exarch’s helmet faced directly at Aoide.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Aoide muttered, readying her cannon again to fire. But Kun just spun her lightsaber in some sort of hell-circle and created her own personal front-facing shield. And the others in the streets were too busy fighting off the rest of the Knights and skytroopers to get her from behind.

Aruha turned around and started hurling her own grenades, but Kun didn’t even seemed phased by it, striding forward purposefully and deliberately without any emotion at all with that mask on her face.

She was closing in. She reached a hand out and Aoide felt the invisible grip around her neck, felt it tightening. But Aruha was having none of it and laid down as much gunfire as she could to stop the Exarch from choking their leader to death. Her lightsaber went back up and Aoide fell to the ground, wheezing for breath.

She stood again not a moment later and joined Aruha in laying down fire, slowly pushing Kun backward out of the square. There were more skytroopers in the city now, Aoide could see, and there were bodies in the streets from where the Knights had seen through the smoke or stealth generators. The Exarch growled and pulled her hands to her sides, and before Aoide could even warn Aruha, a blast of Force knocked them off their feet. Aoide fell only a few feet behind where she’d been, but Aruha went flying back into a building on the other side of the square.

“Pathetic,” the Exarch announced, walking across the square to Aoide, who was scrambling to her feet to reach her assault cannon behind her.

She reached the cannon on her hands and knees, heard the lightsaber swinging in the air, and it was all she could do to roll with her assault cannon in front of her face as a shield.

The lightsaber cracked the cannon in two, but Aoide was alive when it came down on her. She thrust as much force as she could behind herself and hurled the broken cannon at her attacker, snarling as she pushed herself up with the momentum.

Kun went sliding back with a snarl of her own, “Just die already!”

Aoide didn’t reply, pulling her blaster from her holster and aiming it for Kun. The Exarch ran forward with her lightsaber out, but Aoide ducked and tripped her as she swung with it. Kun landed on her face with a thud and Aoide took a shot, hitting her shoulder as she rolled over. She fired over and over, but the Exarch hopped back to her feet, revealing a huge crack down the middle of her helmet.

Kun went to pull it off, but Aoide took a shot that ricocheted off it, hitting one of the half circle monstrosities. The Exarch stumbled back, but Aoide could see a wicked grin through the crack.

She hardly had time to get off the killing shot before the first rocket hit the cliff.

Aoide whipped her head around to see debris cascading down the front of the cliff, all but barricading the main entrance to the tunnels. Looking up, she saw a handful of ships, low in orbit, all readying rocket launchers.

“All roof teams,” she cried into her commlink, “take out those ships ASAP!”

“Think I’m the only one left, sir,” the low voice of Tetri’an broke through the static in her ear.

“Any rocket teams on the cliff?”

“Two of us up here, sir, but we have our own skytroopers to deal with.”

Shit.

“I’ll cover you guys while you take out the rockets,” Toras offered, a blaster shot already zooming up the cliff face at a group of unready skytroopers.

Two rockets launched at the ships, and they went careening down into the ground in fire and ash.

“Sir, not to add to your growing list of troubles,” Elara’s voice was hardly recognizable through the static, “but we’re starting to get overrun in the tunnels, too.”

“Hang tight, Elara, I’m on my way,” Aoide replied, looking for her cannon and remembering its demise. Shit.

She inspected her blaster and sighed. It would have to do unless she found an extra rifle laying around. So she sprinted through the city, taking out skytroopers along the way, but making no attempt to clear the remaining troops out entirely. There were enough Zabrak fighters left to take them out now that their leader was dead.

But she didn’t even get to the tunnel before a second rocket launched from the Zakuulan ships and hit the cliff face directly, sending piles of rubble cascading down and blocking the rest of the entrances into the inner city. Aoide froze. There were thousands of Zabrak in those tunnels, most of them not even actively participating in the fight. Not to mention her own daughters and Elara.

“Elara!” she called into the commlink, “Elara, can you read me? Is everyone okay?”

Nothing but static came in response.

“Elara!”

There was a loud crackle before her voice came through, “We’re okay, sir. Most of us, anyway. But if we get hit again, I’m not sure the whole system won’t collapse.”

Aoide exhaled, “Thank the ancestors. Patch up who you can, Elara. We’ll take down those ships and get the entrances cleared out.”

“Much appreciated, sir.”

Tetri’an’s voice came back on, “Aoide, if you’re not doing anything-”

“Give me two minutes and I’ll join you, Tee,” she replied quickly, scanning the area for a rifle, “keep protecting our groups on the cliff.”

“Sure thing.”

A weapon caught her eye, and she sprinted for it. It was a Zakuulan model, evidently having been separated from its droid owner at some point. She picked it up and inspected it briefly before determining it to be useable and running for the closest building. She took the stairs four at a time and pushed open the roof access door with hand, throwing the rifle up with the other. She hauled herself up and made for the spot with the best visibility.

The Zakuulan ships were low in the atmosphere. And they weren’t particularly large, but there wasn’t a target shouting loudly to hit it and explode the whole thing. She took a few practice shots and they ricocheted off the hull easily. But a rocket came from the cliff and it hit the ship on the underbelly and the entire thing went up in flames, spiralling to the ground.

There were still three ships in the air, and only two teams on the cliff. She picked out the ship in between the two of them and aimed for the bottom of the ship. When she took the shot, she was half hoping it would just explode to dust, but her puny rifle didn’t have enough power to do that. Instead, one of the engines caught on fire, and the ship started to smoke on one side and started drifting.

Directly towards the cliff.

Aoide shot wildly at the ship, praying that it wouldn’t collide. She hit the other engine, but that only sent it spinning faster in exactly the same direction. Another shot came from the roof to her left, and went through the cockpit. The pilot skytrooper fell to far side, and the ship went with it, away from the cliff.

“I owe you one, Tee,” Aoide said through the commlink.

“I’ll make a note of that,” she replied, her smirk all but audible.

The rocket teams on the cliff took quick aim of the other two ships and sent them to the ground quickly, one landing in the river and the other on the cliff on the opposite side of the canyon from Wortan. After that, it was only a matter of taking out the straggling skytroopers and Knights below, which they did in relative short order.

Before the dust had even settled, Aoide was leaping down the escape ladder on the side of the building and running for the barricaded tunnels. It took all of her and Tetri’an’s and Aruha’s considerable combined strength to pull out the biggest rock, but the rest fell away relatively easily. There were skytrooper parts littering the entrance, and a few injured Zabraks, but it looked like there wasn’t much trouble in holding the area.

Aoide hurdled the fallen debris and sprinted for Banol; many of the tunnels were partially collapsed, and her heart came up to her throat when she got to the entrance of the final hallway. It was completely blocked, caved in from the impact of one of the rockets. Her hands were already scraped and bleeding, but she lunged to dig out her family.

“Sir?” Elara’s voice penetrated the rocks after Aoide had cleared about half of them, Tetri’an and Aruha having joined her.

“Hang on, Elara, we’ll get you out of there.”

“Thank the stars,” she sighed in relief.

It took another hour before they’d gotten enough of the debris moved so everyone could get out. Elara and the girls were last, and as soon as Aoide saw all five of them, she burst into tears and gathered them in her arms to hold them. Elara squeaked at the sudden gesture, but the two Zabrak and two Cathar children wrapped their arms happily around their mother.

“Did you win, mama?” Charli asked.

Aoide squeezed her, “We won today, love. We won today.”

She scooped the one-year-old Cathar twins in her arms, holding them on her hips. Elara held the hands of the two Zabrak girls as they all made their way out of the tunnels and into Wortan’s outer city to survey the damage.

It was nearly dusk by now, the sun setting along the Aro River and glittering off the bits and pieces of the skytrooper remains. Crowds of Iridonians gathered to look at it, families holding each other close, lovers holding hands, friends embracing. Aoide took her girls and Elara to Memorial Square. The statue of Bao-Dur stood almost entirely intact, save for a chunk of his blaster missing. She smiled, thinking he’d appreciate that. The body of Exarch Kun, meanwhile, lay exactly where she’d landed after Aoide shot her. The helmet was cracked and broken now, revealing a pale and pointed human face.

“Is that the bad guy?” Andi asked, her big green eyes looking up at Aoide, “Did you kill her?”

Aoide nodded silently.

Andi wrapped her arms around her mother’s leg and buried her face in her hip. Charli, not to be left out, grabbed ahold of the other leg and did the same.

Elara shielded her eyes as she glanced at the setting sun, “Do you think we sent a message?”

Aoide looked to her, “I think we’ve got a long way to go before Iridonia is ours again. But we’ve killed their leader, and we’ve proven to the whole galaxy that Zakuul can be beaten.”

\---

He stood in the middle of a line of officers, standing up as straight as possible, hands clasped behind him, eyes looking directly in front of him. He wondered briefly if his uniform was wrinkled, but didn’t dare move his eyes down to look. The Knight in front of them was a nasty one who sneered at them for having the audacity to join the Zakuulan army as humans who couldn’t use the Force, as if that was a general requirement for being a patriot.

If he concentrated, he could just make out in his periphery the throne room above them, high in the sky - higher than they were, which was already considerable - and encased in glass. A white figure stood at the edge of the platform and looked down on them, and Koth didn’t have to make out the details to recognize the Zakuulan Prince, Arcann. Or, wait. He called himself Emperor now.

It was an argument he’d had in his head dozens of times before this point. Valkorion was their _Immortal_ Emperor. He’d been Emperor for longer than he had been alive. And suddenly, some Outlander comes along and just, what, stabs him? And he _died_? Something here was a lie. Either Valkorion wasn’t immortal, or he wasn’t dead. It was simple as that.

He hoped Valkorion wasn’t dead.

Zakuul was far from a perfect society - as evidenced by the Knight before him who was droning on about the increased efficiencies of skytroopers rather than human squads - but it was home. And it was making the galaxy a better place. Everywhere they went, they installed new technologies, brought economic prosperity, and embraced colonies with open arms. Zakuul itself hardly saw any civil strife at all, other than in the Old World, but every society had their ugly underbellies. That was obvious enough from the footage he’d seen from Coruscant and Dromund Kaas and Nar Shaddaa.

But Zakuul had a good thing going with Valkorion. And since Arcann had taken the throne... Well, he tried not to think about it.

“Vortena,” the Knight called, and Koth paid attention again, “your squad will leave for Denon in two days time. Make sure all is in readiness.”

Koth nodded curtly before he and the other officers were dismissed, and they all headed back for their quarters. He looked up briefly and met the steely gaze of _Emperor_ Arcann, and a shiver ran down his back.

He laid on his bed back in the officer’s quarters, looking up at the ceiling, absently flipping a coin in his hand.

“Whatchya doing, Vortena?” his roommate asked skeptically as he entered, pulling off his dress uniform shirt.

“Mmm, just thinking,” he replied, flipping the coin again.

The other man raised an eyebrow at him, “Thinking about that girl you met last night at the cantina?”

Koth laughed nervously, “Ahh yeah, sure. She was some girl, huh?”

“Sure was. She’s no Ciara, but hey, not everyone can be as lucky as me to have a beautiful woman in your life.”

“Still haven’t heard from her, huh, Rocco?” Koth said, propping his head up with his elbow to get a better look at the other man.

Rocco ran a hand through his auburn hair, “Uhhhhh, no.”

Koth shook his head and rolled back to his previous position, “Think she’s moved on, buddy. Maybe you should, too.”

Rocco blew hard out of his nose, “Easy for you to say. Everything in your life is just perfect, huh, Vortena? No family to worry about, no one to leave behind when you go out for missions. No one to break your heart.”

Koth sighed and sat up, “How about we get some grub?”

Rocco looked him up and down, “Alright. But share the popcorn this time.”

“Mmm no promises,” he replied, “You know that stuff’s my weakness.”

Rocco just shook his head and threw on a comfortable t-shirt before he opened the door for Koth.

“Thank you, my lady,” Koth said with a dramatic bow.

Rocco elbowed him in the stomach, “Don’t be a shit, Vortena.”

Koth shrugged and continued down the hallway.

They walked through the capital city, passing groups of civilians and patrolling skytroopers. There was a sense of unease in the city, a hush that seemed to suffocate it. People were afraid to speak in public, afraid to become the object of attention of Vaylin or Arcann or an uppity Knight. And with the identical armor on all of them, you couldn’t tell if you found an uppity Knight until it was too late. Koth only felt marginally safer as an officer in the navy; he was probably just as hopeless if a Knight turned on him, but a few them would recognize him, at least, and his ranking did come with some clout. Somewhat less than it used to, though.

But he’d learned early on in Arcann’s reign to keep his mouth shut about his doubts. A swift kick to the gut and a lightsaber burn on his arm cleared that up real fast. He rubbed his stomach at the memory of it.

Arcann had been in charge for half a year, and so much had changed. And not for the better. Knights were running around in a blind rage, Vaylin killed whoever she chose, the Scions were cast out, the human divisions of the navy were all but disbanded by this point. He knew very well that he and his crew were not expected to return alive from Denon. The place was a hotbed of civil uprisings and violence. Koth couldn’t help but wonder if it might be different if Valkorion was still in charge.

He wondered that a lot these days.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aruha Adarious belongs to the ever-wonderful Defira! And Taros Metai belongs to the beautiful Mhara!  
> And, because I recognize that not everyone has the same ridiculous brain I do, Exarch Kun is a pun... It's a play on Exar Kun, the Jedi turned Sith who led the Mandalorians and destroyed Iridonia the last time. Aoide is not amused. (But I am)


	4. The Hard Path

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warnings for depictions of physical and mental trauma, blood, mentions of starvation, vomit, and the like.

_Raelyn,_

_You’ll be glad to know I’ve heard from your former apprentice and her wife. They came to me on Dromund Kaas, asking if there was anything they could do. It seems you left quite a resounding impact on both of them, and they would follow you to the ends of the galaxy if you asked. Jaesa came to the same realization I did, but the two of them have been on Ryloth and didn’t know how safe the subject was to broach via holo._

_At any rate, they are here now, on board with both your alliance as well as your rescue. I hope to use them well and treat them with as much respect and love as you did._

_Perhaps more surprising is the change of heart in your sister. After her initial rejection of my inquiry, she wrote me an encrypted message stating she’d thought it over and decided that any lingering bitterness on her part was entirely her own and you had done more than was necessary to make amends. No matter the reason, her contacts and abilities will be invaluable in the time to come._

_We’ll still need more resources, of course, more allies and information and bargaining chips. As Minister of Intelligence, I have some clout with Imperial Authorities, but they have sent me to the Dark Council at this point. Without Darth Marr’s presence, I am not sure how welcoming they will be of my proposal._

_I realize this may all sound a bit like a laundry list or a command update, like we used to get on Yavin IV. But believe me when I say that my pragmatism is not a statement that my love for you has diminished these last months. Rather, it is all I have to keep myself from falling apart. My other alternative is flying to Wild Space myself and destroying whatever is out there to find you. I know how poorly that would end._

_My love always,_  
_Lana_

\---

He slammed his robotic fist on the arm of his throne, feeling the tremors through his shoulders and neck. Arcann’s left shoulder already ached considerably from carrying too large a weight around, and the vibrations left him in borderline blinding pain for a moment. Physical pain to accompany his tactical failures. That’s always how it was when Father was around. Some things never changed.

“Now, now, brother,” Vaylin sighed, wistfully staring out at the Eternal Fleet, “There’s no need for that. We’ll simply destroy another planet in more spectacular fashion. All will be well, you’ll see.”

Arcann grumbled something not even he himself understood. How could he be so stupid? How could a planet of poor, broken aliens not only hold back his armies, but also retake the entire planet? Not to mention the loss of Exarch Kun.

Vaylin shook her head, not even bothering to turn around and see his face. It had been in a constant scowl these last weeks since news from Iridonia arrived. He imagined she didn’t need to see it again. She’d seen a lot of his ugly, broken face lately. The Knights were having a surprising amount of trouble locating the last of the Scions, and since Arcann had taken to exiling traitors rather than executing them, she’d had significantly less to do. Not that she seemed to mind so much. She wandered the palace, the Spire, the throne room, tormenting whatever poor souls happened to be there. Except the kitchen staff. She adored them for always having food on hand, willing to give her. Arcann held back a shudder, knowing the exact reason why she’d attached herself to people who fed her without hesitation or question.

“Hello? Anybody in there?” Vaylin was waving her hand in front of his face, having apparently moved while he was thinking.

He brushed her aside with an annoyed frown.

She grinned, “There’s my brother. The sad, disappointed scowl is a bad look on you.”

Arcann grumbled, and she took a step back, folding her arms over her chest.

“Oh, don’t sulk,” she reprimanded, “Either _do something_ about this, or get over it. You lost a battle, so what? It’s not like the entire empire’s gone. Who cares about the stupid Republic, anyway? They don’t even know which one their leader is.”

He just looked at her for a moment, meeting her golden eyes, meeting her challenge. Perhaps there was something he _could_ do. Zakuulan scientists had been working on a large scale shielding mechanism - _Star Fortresses_ , he thought they called them - meant to cover large areas and protect them from invading naval forces. For now they were only being tested on acres of swamp and farmland in the Colonies. But if they could use a combination of naval attack to force the planet into submission, and then Star Fortress to keep them protected from outside parties…

Vaylin sucked loudly on her finger, and he looked up to see a half eaten jam pastry between her fingers. She held it out to him, “Want some?”

He paused for a moment, wondering if it would be worth shooing the Knights out so he could take off his mask and share the treat with his sister, but Vaylin pulled it back before he came to a decision.

“Mask’s on, right. Your loss.”

They didn’t say a word as Vaylin finished eating, but once she licked her fingers clean, he motioned for the room to be cleared.

“Order the war tacticians and scientists in here,” he growled as the Knights turned and marched out in unison.

Vaylin’s eyes lit up, “Ooh, you have a plan. I like when you have a plan.”

A hint of a smile tugged at Arcann’s lips, but he refused to let it manifest. There was work to do.

It took fewer than twenty minutes to get the tacticians and scientists in the room, every single one of them looking both haughty and anxious. A certain amount of hubris came when you were chosen to be employed directly by the Emperor of Zakuul. But the whims of said Emperor were often fleeting, and a single disappointment could mean permanent termination. Arcann was vaguely put-off by the air of the room, but Vaylin delighted in their fear, taking every opportunity to flick their ears and drop crumbs on their shoulder pads. A holoprojector was brought into the room, but neither table nor chairs. The group of men and women and otherwise-gendered people before him stood with datapads in their hands, looking more than a little uncomfortable. But none of them said a word.

“Star Fortresses,” he began without any pretense whatsoever, “how can we use them?”

There was a deep and uncomfortable silence in the room as they looked around at each other in confusion.

Arcann slammed his fist into the arm of the throne again, again attempting to ignore the pain that throbbed through his upper body from the force of it, but unable to repress the wince.

“Tell me!”

They scrambled for about thirty seconds, babbling to each other and just in general, searching through their datapads, looking around frantically.

Once the chaos had quieted a bit, one scientist had obviously drawn the shortest stick, and they stepped forward.

“Y-your Highness,” their voice trembled as they bowed, “S-s-star Fortresses as they are n-now are little more than m-monitoring networks, gathering d-data on cr-cr-crop output.”

Arcann was taken aback for a moment. He’d been under the impression that the Star Fortresses were military in nature. Not... Not whatever this was. He had to read that report again, and decide if he read it wrong and was as stupid as his father told him he was, or if he had to go kill the person who wrote it up for him to read. He felt like a complete idiot, demanding information that did not exist. What the hell were they doing naming glorified farming equipment something like “Star Fortress”? Was it meant to confuse him? Were they attacking his psyche by naming it that?

He held out his organic hand and squeezed, momentarily losing himself in the power of determining the life and death of any particular person at any particular time. But Vaylin coughed, and he unceremoniously dropped the scientist to the floor.

He bypassed all the questions that admitted he’d misunderstood it’s purpose and accused them, “You’re telling me we’re spending millions of credits on a project that will _monitor_ things?”

The scientist was on his hands and knees, still catching his breath, but he nodded. Arcann pushed him off the landing with the Force, sitting completely still until they heard the _thud_ of the landing two hundred stories below.

Finally he stood up, descending the stairs deliberately and slowly, allowing the clanking of his boots on the floor to ring out in the open space. Fear rippled through the others in the room - minus Vaylin, of course, who was trying to look vaguely annoyed but was absolutely enjoying this - and Arcann inhaled loudly.

“Iridonia was a colossal failure,” he stated flatly, “land invasions clearly will not give us the results we need. Undoubtedly, the Eternal Fleet is our only remaining option for directly assaulting planets. But once the planets are conquered, we need a system in place to keep it occupied. Can the Star Fortresses do that?”

Another scientist - having drawn the second shortest metaphorical stick - visibly swallowed before answering, “In theory, yes. They would have to be greatly enlarged in order to monitor an entire planet.”

“We need to do more than monitor it,” he barked.

“O-of course, Emperor Arcann. We could theoretically put whatever you need in it, granted we have the resources necessary-”

“You’ll have it,” he growled, turning his attention to the tacticians, “what would we need to make absolutely sure an occupied planet did not revolt?”

A dark haired woman with steely grey eyes spoke up without any hesitation, “A skytrooper plant would be necessary, rooms for the Exarch and their entourage, a prison for any upstarters-”

“That seems like it would fill the sky already, can we really do that?” another scientist interrupted.

“You think it would be wise to allow rebel leaders outside of our direct reach?”

“Of course not, but it doesn’t have to be in the same-”

They bickered for hours about what could and could not feasibly go into the redesigned Sky Fortresses. Vaylin popped in and out half a dozen times with different baked goods, wiping the remnants on the jacket of whichever advisor was standing closest to her. All of them were smart enough, at least, to allow her to pester them without complaint.

They drafted and redrafted schematics of the Star Fortresses; they discussed colonization tactics and the need for laboratories to keep updated technology within reach; they argued over powering mechanisms for a structure that would require obscene amounts of power that could only be found in radioactive cores; they even began assigning Exarchs to particular planets based on their strengths and past performances. All told, it was a magnificent plan shaping into existence. The Eternal Fleet would bombard Republic and Sith planets into submission, a Star Fortress would be installed in the planet’s atmosphere, and the Exarch would be the ruling authority on that planet. The Star Fortress would monitor the situation below (the scientists were very proud of their monitoring capabilities, so Arcann allowed them this), manufacture skytroopers and weapons, house the Exarch, imprison any rioters, and hold a superweapon to decimate the planet as a last resort.

Vaylin insisted he was ruining the fun by insisting the superweapon was only to be used as a last resort.

All that was left was to build the Star Fortresses and decide which planets received such a gift from their conquerors.

\---

The walk from Sith Intelligence to the Sith Sanctum was not a long one, both of them located in the Imperial Citadel on Dromund Kaas along with the Mandalorian enclave. But it felt like the longest stretch of slick sidewalk that Lana had ever walked. She wasn’t afraid, _per se,_ but she definitely felt uncomfortable. After Zakuul claimed Korriban and the Sith Academy, the Sith Sanctum was now the home of the Dark Council. Or, what was left of the Dark Council. Darth Marr was only the latest loss, and more than a handful of Dark Council members had fallen to the hands of the Republic or Zakuul in recent years.

Kaas City had settled considerably since the death of the Emperor; most people had gone back to their daily routines and things ran more or less normally again. A vague feeling of fear still draped over the city, but that likely had just as much to do with the relocation of the Dark Council as it did the threat from Zakuul. Zakuul was frightening, yes, but more as a bedtime horror story parents tell their children: a foreign power that seemed all but unstoppable, rampaging from one planet to the next, and if you misbehaved they’d come for you, too. But the Dark Council’s presence influenced their daily lives. The most powerful Force users in the Empire, cramped into a tiny conference room, put up in apartments that seemed as good as jail cells for many of them. They had very few of their coveted texts and relics and holocrons, and the Sith Sanctum provided only a small haven. A few of the remaining members had suddenly decided they had pressing matters off world they needed to attend to, but as far as Lana knew, that only included Darth Nox - whose work often took her into the Outer Rim to search for artifacts - Darth Imperius - who was relatively absent from the Council anyway - and Darth Vowrawn - who was doing research on Zakuul in Wild Space.

She put her hand in her pocket and turned her coat to the wind, pushing her shoulders back just enough so she looked like a confident Sith Minister constructing a plan of attack rather than a grieving woman who desperately wanted her lover back in her arms. Her hand brushed against a small silver band in her pocket, and she ran her fingers over it thoroughly, tracing the gems and the etchings. She’d planned on proposing after Raelyn’s return from Darth Marr’s ship, planned on marrying her and spending the rest of her days with her. Raelyn had wanted to retreat from public life for awhile, start a family, settle down somewhere secluded. It went against every lesson Lana had been taught from the moment she stepped foot on Korriban all those years ago, and she doubted she could drop all of her work and leave, but she admitted there was an appeal to that idea. Normally, she’d shun such trinkets of sentimentality, but she’d kept the ring with her since Raelyn’s disappearance and especially today, she used it as her strength. She had no doubt that she would need all of her power and more to corral the Dark Council and convince them to devote the resources to Raelyn’s rescue. The ring was a reminder of all that was at stake if she failed.

As soon as she came under the canopy before the Sanctum, she removed her hand from the ring and pushed back the hood from her face. She took a few centering breaths as she walked, head held high, striding purposefully inside.

The Sanctum was a hub of activity as apprentices ran from one end to the other to do their masters’ bidding, slaves carried supplies in heavy boxes and lavish meals on silver platters, Sith Lords conversed in hushed voices in the shadowed corners. But it was peculiarly quiet for all the activity going on, as if everyone was afraid of or was at least vaguely uncomfortable with the new arrivals in their spaces. Lana held back a shiver and wet her lips with her tongue, drawing on the concentrated Force energies there. The Emperor himself had built the Sanctum centuries ago as his home, and it had been co-opted since then for general use by high ranking Sith Lords, but still bore the marks of his prolonged presence here.

Lana made her way to the back of the building, stepping onto the elevator that took her into the bowels of the Sanctum where the Force was the strongest. The Dark Council had to be placated with something, after all. The corridor was poorly lit and winding, but the sound of a dozen or so voices clearly indicated the path. When she arrived at the end of the hallway, the entrance to the Council Chambers was wide open, the heavy durasteel door pushed open into the hallway.

She entered the mildly cramped room and immediately assessed her surroundings, determining which members were present and waiting for her. The room was semi-circular, and a single row of thrones was imported to line the curved wall, raised on a platform to emulate the actual chambers on Korriban. There were ten chairs total, each one looked vaguely like a throne with red velvet covering on the cushions, the arm rests contained every technology they could ask for, and the seat frames themselves appeared to be engraved with gold. Their most senior members sat in the middle of the proceedings, making their way outwards. Although aside from Darth Vowrawn, very few members had been there for more than a few years. The Republic had certainly done a number on their ranks. So many Council members had been lost or replaced, Lana couldn’t help but imagine how awkward these proceedings would look back on Korriban.

Darth Zhorrid sat closest to the door on the left, her high-pitched cackling penetrating Lana’s eardrums. Beside her sat Darth Acina and then Darth Occlus, who were whispering to each other about matters that may not have been relevant to the Council, if Acina’s furious blushing and Occlus’ satisfied grin were any indication. Then there was an empty chair, presumably for Darth Imperius. Darths Vowrawn and Ravage sat in the center, being the most senior members; Vowrawn’s holoimage sipped a drink casually before placing it in the indentation in his armrest and laughing at something. Ravage was scowling, looking in Acina and Occlus’ direction. Darths Rictus and Aruk sat beside him, conversing loudly about which of them was the better swordsman. Beside Aruk was the holoimage of Darth Nox, wearing her usual scowl and tapping her fingers impatiently on her seat. And the furthest chair on the right, meant for Darth Mortis, was also curiously empty. Two members of the Council had not appeared in person or via holo, which was rare for a meeting of this kind.

Perhaps only Darth Mortis’ absence bore any concern. Then again, maybe Imperius’ did, as well.

Lana stepped forward into the center of the chamber, expecting no seat for herself and finding none. She wasn’t a guest, she was prey. Each of them held their tongues when she entered, turning their gaze to her, scrutinizing every move she made, every noise that came from her.

Vowrawn began the proceedings in his normal convivial way, “Minister Beniko, we are overjoyed that you join us today. It is my understanding that you are here to discuss the former Lord Wrath.”

She nodded, “Yes, my Lords.”

Rictus _tch_ ed, “You have no proof that she is _alive_ still, how are we supposed to be convinced to devote funds to you?”

Aruk slapped him, “Don’t you think she’s going to tell us? Honestly, Rictus, how did you even get to the Council?”

A fight almost erupted then and there, but Nox cleared her throat and silenced the room.

“Please, Minister Beniko,” she drawled, “excuse the children in the room. Do continue.”

Lana nodded and swallowed, “I assure you, my Lords, if you focus your meditations you can find both Lord Politryk and our former emperor-”

“Are you suggesting, Minister,” Ravage interrupted defensively, “that we have not taken the time to meditate on these recent events? And that we - the most powerful Sith Lords in the Empire - simply did not _focus enough_ to feel the Wrath through the Force?”

“Of course not, my Lord-”

“Oh, I am _bored_ already,” Zhorrid whined loudly, “Where is my alien friend? I’d like to pick her brain some more.”

Darth Nox immediately rose from her seat, “Darth Imperius does _not_ heed to your every beck and call, you entitled snot. And she is hardly your friend.”

“ _Of course_ she’s my friend,” Zhorrid reeled in horror, “Do other people befriend aliens differently?”

Nox’s eyes nearly rolled right through her skull, seemingly taking all her energy to just keep from launching her holoimage at her. Three minutes in and they were already off track and off topic, and honestly it was starting to feel like Lana had to herd a room of territorial tooka cats.

Ravage continued, “Do grow up, Zhorrid. Imperius cannot be your friend. As sad as it is, you are above her in every way. How she made it onto the council is truly a mystery and proof of the sad state of our Empire. Truly, allowing not one, but _two_ aliens? What has the Empire come to?”

“I’ll have you know I earned this position through my own merits, Ravage,” Darth Occlus argued, gesticulating wildly, “I did not go through medical school blind and alien just to be rewarded with your sour attitude.” She pointed to the mask over the part of her face where human eyes would be.

“Oh, boo hoo. Acina, keep your alien _slave_ in line.”

A spark of electricity flew from Acina’s fingertips towards Ravage; not enough to physically injure him, but it was certainly a reminder that she was not on his side and she was not to be trifled with. Occlus grinned wickedly beside her.

“I don’t need eyes to see that you’re a little bitch, Ravage,” she remarked, mightily pleased with herself.

“Folks, please, you may all return to your bickering once we have retired for the day,” Vowrawn announced loudly, “May I remind you that we are not here to determine the worth of our members.”

Nox and Ravage both sat down again, pointedly refusing to look at each other or at Zhorrid who was whistling to herself.

“As you were saying, Lord Beniko,” Vowrawn continued, “you have felt the presences of both Lord Politryk and Vitiate? It is curious that none of us have felt either, despite our superior power.”

Lana nodded, “I did not mean to call your abilities into question, my Lords. Lord Politryk and I were” - confidantes, advisors, lovers, any number of terms that would weaken her argument - “ _close,_ and perhaps it is that closeness that allowed me to perceive her.”

“Or perhaps your feelings for Lord Politryk have blinded you into believing what you wish,” Darth Occlus commented pointedly.

Lana stood with her jaw vaguely open for a moment before she replied, “I am frankly offended that such a thing would be suggested, my Lord.”

Vowrawn held a hand up in a truce, “Lord Beniko, your romantic feelings for Lord Politryk are obvious. They shine in you brighter than the stars in the sky. Her feelings for you shone just as brightly.”

Lana pursed her lips and widened her stance, “With all due respect, I hardly see how my personal feelings change the fact that Lord Politryk is uniquely placed to change the tide of the war against Zakuul-”

“Your personal feelings are coloring your vision of the situation significantly, Lord Beniko,” Rictus interrupted with a wave of his hand, “Given the fact that none of us have felt Lord Politryk’s presence since her demise, wouldn’t it be far more likely that you are projecting your hopes and she is actually dead and your entire proposal is a waste of all of our time?”

Lana’s stomach dropped like she’d swallowed a rock. She’d expected resistance from them, expected to have to play to their own selfish motivations rather than any esoteric good. But to have her own motivations called into question was not only unexpected but also deeply unnerving. Had she really made her feelings that obvious? And even besides that point, she had dedicated her entire life to the Empire, did her past accomplishments mean nothing? She’d turned on a member of the Dark Council because he’d threatened the Empire with the Revanites. Surely, she’d garnered some measure of trust from these people?

Apparently not.

“So we are in agreement then?” Vowrawn looked around the room, and the others except for Nox nodded, “Minister Beniko, I’m sorry but your request for resources and funding in this matter have been declined.”

“You’re really going to risk the fate of the galaxy because I have been intimate with the Lord Wrath?” she sputtered.

Ravage scowled at her, “Bite your tongue, Lord Beniko, or we’ll cut it out.”

She stiffened and straightened her shoulders, ready to fight them all, but Nox put out her hand, her demeanor having flipped entirely in the last minute. She was softer, younger. Lana had heard the stories about Darth Nox and her fluctuating moods, but she looked like she was pondering something in the back of her mind. She looked to Lana with eyes that pleaded, almost like she felt guilty.

She quickly returned her attention to her colleague, "Shut up, Ravage. Haven't you hurt her enough?"

“Even the sightless Miraluka can see that you’ve lost this battle,” Ravage continued, “If you keep fighting, you’ll only make things worse for yourself, Minister Beniko.”

Lana nodded. She swallowed. The Dark Council was refusing to help her. And she hardly had the capacity to both rescue Raelyn and also run Sith Intelligence. Shara was incredibly capable, she could handle Intelligence on her own - she’d already proven herself as a leader before Imperial Intelligence’s collapse.

She cleared her throat, “With all due respect, my Lords, I believe you are wrong. I believe that Raelyn is key to saving the galaxy, and every attempt should be made to find her and bring her back. And to that end, I must resign my post as Minister of Sith Intelligence.”

Zhorrid gasped loudly, “You _wouldn’t_!”

Acina flicked her with a little push of Force.

“Your resignation has been denied, Lord Beniko,” Vowrawn said with a dismissive wave of his hand and a bored yawn, “Your duties to the Empire come first and foremost, regardless of your _beliefs_ regarding Lord Politryk.”

Lana bowed her head. She was never one to take defeat easily, but she knew that she was likely to end up dead if she fought the point, “Very well. I shall return to my post.”

Without another word, she turned and walked out of the conference room, subtly putting up a Force shield to her back in case any of them had any ideas. It wouldn’t have stopped any of them if they truly had a mind to kill her, of course, but it made her feel a little safer.

She’d barely made it back out into the rain before the tears in her eyes spilled out. Of all the ways she’d imagined that confrontation going, that was not anywhere on her list of possibilities. It was entirely disastrous. She was lucky she hadn’t been killed on the spot for insubordination. It took all of her energy to keep from collapsing on the ground, feeling the rain soak her uncovered head and her feet squelch in the puddles.

Rather than return to her office, she headed for the speeders, making up her mind then and there about how she was going to handle this.

Lana Beniko was going to defect.

She took a deep breath and as the autopilot on the speeder took her from the Sanctum to the spaceport, she dialed the code for one of the few people she knew she could trust.

“Lord Beniko?” the confused and tired face of the youngest Politryk appeared before her.

“Rimea, I need your help,” Lana said quickly.

“Whatever you need. Should I send you our coordinates and docking codes?”

Lana nodded, only a little surprised that she seemed to know the Sith needed a place to stay, “That would be much appreciated. We can at least talk with the confidence that the entire Sith Empire isn’t listening.”

Rimea smiled a little as she typed into her datapad, “You probably shouldn’t say any more than that until you arrive.”

They both disconnected, and Lana thought for a moment as she crossed over the wall of the city that she should stop by her apartment and pack a few things. But then again, the Dark Council probably figured she wouldn’t return to Intelligence and had probably already sent an agent there to dispose of her. No, it was safer to leave immediately, no matter what she left behind. She put her hand to her pocket and traced the outline of the ring again.

She acknowledged no one as she continued through the spaceport to her shuttle, pushed out the droid who normally stood inside, and entered the cockpit alone. She rubbed her hands over her face for a moment, fear and guilt twisting in her gut. Every part of her life to this point had been for the good of the Empire. Every decision she had made had not been to further herself or climb the ranks, but to make the Empire run more efficiently, more smoothly. And now she was dropping everything and leaving it all behind.

\---

She laid on her back on an asteroid, gasping and heaving for breath. Fire surged through her blood, then ice, then fire, then ice again. Blood dribbled out of the corners of her mouth whenever she exhaled, and she hardly had the energy to even lay there anymore.

“There is an obvious solution to your predicament, my dear Wrath.”

She didn’t even look over. Couldn’t even draw the strength to respond.

“Why must you continue to fight me? We are allies.”

“We are _not_ allies,” she rasped bitterly, immediately succumbing to a coughing fit that seemed to crack each of her ribs.

She could _hear_ the crooked smile growing on his face, “You continue to argue that. And yet, I am still here.”

“Feel free to leave at any time,” she wheezed, rolling over onto her hands and knees and crying out in pain as she did it.

He tsked at her, “Now, now, is that any way to treat a mentor? I gave your life purpose when Baras disposed of you. I gave you a place you deserved, a place where you were not the sycophantic underling of a power-hungry fool.”

“Funny,” she grunted, pushing herself to her feet and wobbling almost to the point of falling, “do you mean Baras the power-hungry fool? Or yourself?”

He pursed his lips, the smile disappearing, and a small surge of pride empowered her to thrust her hand down into the asteroid, sending the Force through it. It cracked in half with a thundering clap, Valkorion on one side and Raelyn on the other. Her knuckles were bloodied and broken, but they were already bloodied and broken; what was a little more pain when she was already dying?

She let his side of the asteroid drop into the nothingness before she collapsed again with a whimper. Even knowing he’d return in a matter of minutes, it was a welcome reprieve from his constant taunting and condescension. She couldn’t even bring a hand to her forehead to try and ease the insurmountable headache without choking back a sob. Every movement she made felt like ten thousand needles being jabbed into her.

She missed Lana.

She tried to envision her beside her on the asteroid’s surface. She tried to pretend the rock she put her head on was Lana’s lap. She tried to remember her beautiful golden eyes and soft hair and perfect lips. She tried to reach out through the Force to her. She’d screamed for her in the early days - or, she assumed it had been days, it could have been seconds or it could have been years for all she knew. But she was so tired now, her memories so blurry, her thoughts so jumbled with his.

Raelyn put a hand to her pocket, tracing the outline of the ring with her fingers. She’d planned on proposing once she’d returned from Darth Marr’s ship, planned on marrying Lana and living the rest of her days with her. She’d kept the ring hidden as much as she could, only reaching for it in the blessed silence when Valkorion was elsewhere for a few moments. But she suspected he knew anyway and was only waiting to find the most painful moment to strike at this particular weakness. All the same, the ring was one of the few reminders that she was alive and she was real. It grounded her, kept her sane. She had to get out of this hell alive. She had to do it for Lana.

But it was hard enough to conjure a likeness of Lana, and it was harder still to recall specific moments with her. She kept blending into another woman, stern and severe with dark hair and silver beads on her forehead and impossibly pale blue eyes. Raelyn didn’t think she knew her, but she still felt her heart flutter at her sight occasionally. Her memories were not her own, and she was repulsed and horrified by it. A _man_ , violating her most sacred and cherished thoughts and daydreams. And as if that wasn’t enough, he didn’t even keep his commentary to himself. He was constantly belittling her for her mundane dreams, insisting that she was doing herself and the galaxy a disservice with her lack of ambition.

_Fucking Valkorion._

“Hmm, I may have engaged in the act of coitus with you at some previous point in my life,” his voice penetrated the stillness again and she shuddered, “but you were always high-strung. It wouldn’t have been satisfying.”

Her voice hitched in her throat and she coughed up a pool of blood, “Wouldn’t have let you.”

He laughed then, the vibrations cutting through her like a serrated vibroknife. It was ugly, harsh, haughty. Just like the rest of him.

“My dear Wrath,” he said with a wicked grin, “you were never strong enough to stop me.”

Raelyn suddenly lunged to her feet, the fire momentarily replaced with adrenaline and anger, and she tackled Valkorion to the ground. Every pain that surged through her body was fuel for her fury and her hatred.

_And she fucking hated Valkorion._

She hated him with a vitriol that she’d never felt before. Her hatred was so strong and so forceful she could momentarily forget that every bone in her body was broken or cracked, her lungs were filling with blood, and her chest had a weight of a Boma on it at all times. She tore his armor and dug her hands into his skin, delighting in his pained groans.

He pushed her off him forcefully and she smacked into another asteroid. And when she stood again, he was in front of her, putting out a hand and an invisible barrier, no more injured than if she’d poked him on the nose.

She screamed.

She screamed until her voice gave out and her knees buckled, sending her crashing to the ground again. She was so frustrated and exhausted and for fuck’s sake she was dying. As if being stuck here with a monster wasn’t enough.

She thought of Lana again, reaching out to her and sobbing ugly tears on the ground beneath her. Valkorion put a hand on her shoulder and she recoiled so violently she was trembling afterwards.

“My dear Wrath.”

“I’m not _your_ anything,” she choked, using the rest of her remaining strength to roll away from his touch, covering the fresh layer of blood on her skin with a coating of dirt.

Valkorion just stood beside her, looking down on her.

“Such a shame. The sooner you admit you need my help, the sooner I can help you. But I cannot help you unless you ask.”

“Didn’t seem to stop you from joining me in this hell when I didn’t ask.”

Her vision was red around the edges, although she couldn’t tell if it was from anger or if there was a cut bleeding into her eyes. There were any number of pains in her head and face, she had a hard time telling them all apart. She finished rolling onto her back and closed her eyes. The image of Lana was blurring with the other woman again.

“Ahh, yes,” Valkorion reminisced, clearly entering Raelyn’s thoughts again and recognizing her, though he refused to say her name, “We had fun.”

Raelyn scoffed, “I find it hard to believe she agrees with you.”

He laughed that ugly, guttural laugh again, “You presume much, my dear. Perhaps someday you’ll meet my wife and she can tell you about it. Perhaps she can give you some… _tips._ ”

Her stomach clenched as nausea swept through her suddenly and violently, and it took all of her energy to keep from choking on the vomit. Perhaps it would have been better if she did. If she just let death take her. The Force was waiting for her, yes? Perhaps that wouldn’t be such a bad thing.

But Raelyn felt the ring in her pocket and saw Lana’s eyes in her mind again. Bright, vibrant, beautiful eyes. She decided she had to live long enough to see those eyes again. And the woman they belonged to.

Death might have been easier.

But Raelyn Politryk was never one to take the easy path.


	5. Recruits

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warnings: mild smut, mentions of a general arm injury

_Raelyn,_

_You’ve been gone nearly a year now, and I feel like I’ve done nothing in the meantime. Your alliance is finally starting to take form, and a small group of us are meeting on Manaan in a few weeks’ time, but I feel like I should be doing more._

_I suppose there’s no use dwelling on it._

_Zakuul has started a new tactic to conquer worlds, and it is frighteningly effective. Dromund Kaas and Coruscant have succumbed already, giving Republic and Imperial allegiance to the Eternal Empire. I would never say it aloud, never even think it in the presence of another Force-user, but I am… afraid, Raelyn. Afraid of what Zakuul will do, afraid of how the galaxy will crumble._

_Afraid that I’ll lose you._

_Maybe the Council was right. Maybe my love for you is clouding my judgement. I will meditate on it. And in the meantime, I have already defected, so I may as well do something with my new found freedom._

_My heart and love,_  
_L._

\---

They were a tangled mess in the stark white sheets; brown and red skin intermingled with white cloth spread over the entire bed. Their skin glistened and their breathing was still heavy, but the Sith had snuggled herself into the side of her very naked and ruggedly handsome husband. Andronikos ran his fingers through her thick mess of black hair, and she moved one of her hands down to his hip, tracing circles with her thumb.

“Got you first this time,” he remarked, voice gruff and hoarse.

Messalina pressed her thumb into his skin, practically purring in reply, “Well, you are _very_ good. Why else would I continue to fuck you?”

A shiver ran down his back, and she smiled widely against his chest. She knew how to play him like a fiddle. And she never got tired of it.

He rolled her over and straddled her, the sheet falling away from him. Messalina squeaked at first, but let out a soft moan when he bent down and kissed her where her shoulder and neck met. Her hips rolled up to meet his and she wrapped her legs around them, delighting in his worked up grunts and the feeling of his hairy chest against hers. She kissed him hard and fast, pulling at his lower lip with her teeth just to hear the noises he would make. He cupped one of her breasts in his hand, bringing his head down to kiss it and suck at her nipple.

She could hardly contain the moan, gritting her teeth so only a whiny grumble escaped her mouth, but there were sparks at the tips of her fingers.

Andronikos kissed his way back up to her neck, whispering in her ear, “Let it out, babe.”

But just as he brought his mouth to hers again, the holocomm next to them pinged loudly. Messalina shot it with a spark and groaned.

It beeped again, and she whined, “Who left that damn thing on?”

He just laughed, “Probably you, Lina.”

She felt Andronikos withdrawing, falling back onto the bed beside her, pressing against her backside and draping his arm over her stomach. He absently traced her stretch marks with his thumb. She angrily accepted the call, watching the image of Talos Drellik appear and then his face contort as he immediately wished he could disappear.

“My lord!” he cried with a jump, “Please, I could be in a meeting!”

Messalina rolled her eyes, “That’s highly unlikely. What do you need, Talos?”

“If this is a bad time-”

“Out with it,” Andronikos growled, and Messalina felt the heat travel through her again and she sorely wished she’d turned the damn thing off.

Talos stiffened, still absolutely mortified at the sight of Messalina and Andronikos stark naked, clearly having interrupted, but he continued, “My lord, my associates have told me of another relic on Alderaan. If it’s not too much trouble to separate you from your bed and insist you be dressed, I thought you might want to take a look.”

She grinned, “Oh, Talos, you shouldn’t have.”

“Mmm,” he hummed, “preliminary research points toward it being a holocron of Revan - the real one, not that ugly pretender we ran into on Yavin IV.”

“Revan?” she asked, her eyebrow quirking up, “Sounds intriguing. We’ll meet you there shortly.”

“As you say, my lord,” he replied, “And please do come dressed. I wasn’t kidding about that.”

Andronikos snorted as she hung up, kissing along her shoulder and jaw, “Guess we should get up, huh?”

Messalina sighed, “I suppose.”

They showered and dressed quickly, exiting their quarters together, parting with a kiss. Andronikos went to the cockpit to set the course for Alderaan, and Messalina to the conference room to find the other members of the crew.

“Bun ch'ican, Messalina,” the lone occupant of the room greeted without looking up from her datapad. The Chiss woman sat with her legs crossed demurely, hands wrapped around a mug of Jeru tea. There were wrinkles at the corners of her face and a purple tint in her scarlet eyes. Her skin was a pale blue, and her rich navy hair was streaked with silver, falling in loose curls around her shoulders.

“Morning, Thastre,” the Pureblood replied, taking a seat beside her, “Thandra and Ashara are training?”

Thastre nodded and took a sip from her tea.

“I am surprised you did not hear them,” she continued, her tongue uncomfortable getting around the Basic words, but the vague displeasure was still abundantly clear, “They are louder than you and Andronikos this morning.”

Messalina grinned, “What can I say? He’s very distracting.”

Thastre’s gaze shifted ever so slightly in the Sith’s direction with a slow blink, “Mmm.”

“Tin’mi!" the voice of Thastre’s daughter echoed through the ship as she came running, “Ch'ean'i veo Ch'ah tuzir k'ir!”

“Thandra, don’t run around the ship with lightening!” Ashara reprimanded, sprinting into the conference room behind her student.

Thandra, who had the eyes and face of her mother but her skin and hair were considerably darker, held out her hand, bouncing from foot to foot as she held out her hand. Tiny purple sparks were emitting from her fingertips, dancing as she bounced from foot to foot in excitement.

Thastre smiled gently and held her daughter’s hands with hers, careful not to interrupt the sparks. She spoke reverently, with the same wonderfully rich and soothing voice she’d greeted Messalina with, “Etah cart ch'esen'bi'aho, ch'eo k'eten.”

The young Chiss looked over to Messalina, who grinned. Four years ago when Thastre and Thandra had first come aboard, Thandra had been spindly and sickly, suffering from some unknown illness that had kept her homebound for much of her young life. But she’d made great strides since then, and even the hardened Sith couldn’t stop herself from being proud in this moment.

“Miss Ashara says not even she can get lightning like I can!” she beamed, transitioning into Basic easily as she addressed the Pureblood.

“I’d be willing to bet Miss Ashara can still best you in a duel, though,” Messalina replied with a wink at the Togruta.

Thandra frowned, “I’m getting closer.”

Thastre grinned and kissed her head, “Cart vah k'ir bsarah sir to csihn?”

“That’s up to Miss Ashara,” she replied, smothering the sparks in her palm and turning to her mentor, “Are we done training for today?”

Ashara put a hand on her hip and looked at the Chiss girl, “I don’t know, have we done our cool down stretches yet?”

Thandra pursed her lips and scrunched her face, “But those are so boring.”

“They’ll also keep you from getting hurt, kiddo,” Messalina chimed in, attempting to be genuinely helpful. Ashara nodded and Thastre smiled, gently gesticulating that she should do as Ashara asked. Thandra frowned, but didn’t argue, and when she got back out into the hallway, she was skipping back to the cargo bay.

Thastre looked out the doorway longingly, equally proud of and anxious for her daughter.

“You can’t hide her from the Council forever,” Messalina said quietly.

The Chiss bowed her head, “I know.”

“They’ll take her to Korriban to be properly trained.”

“I know.”

“Avoiding their meetings and calls is garnering you no favors with them, either.”

“I know.”

“They’ll probably have you killed for defying them.”

“I _know_.”

“If the Empire doesn’t find out, Zakuul definitely will, and stars know what they’ll do-”

“I know!” Thastre shouted, leaping from her chair so violently it tipped over and lightning formed in her hands, “I know, I know, _I know_!”

Messalina leaned back in her own chair with her arms crossed over her chest, asking flatly, “Then why you do you persist?”

Thastre stared at her for a moment before she sunk to her knees, bringing her hands to her face and whimpering, “Because… because I cannot allow for them to torture her like they did me. I would die before they took her from me. I did not have a choice in becoming Sith. She must have that choice.”

“You did choose to join the Dark Council, though,” Messalina pointed out, trying her damnedest to remain level-headed and calm, “Why? You don’t belong there. And not because of some stupid-ass racist reason, no matter what Ravage tells you. The Dark Council is filled with cruel, ambitious, narcissistic, blubbering idiots, myself included. You are none of these things, Thastre. And it’s obvious you don’t like being there.”

Thastre choked back a half-laugh, half-sob, “It is far too late to change my mind now.”

Messalina blinked, imitating the Chiss’ version of an eye roll, “Bantha-shit. You could have faked your death, gone off the grid, claimed Zakuul took you. Anyone here would have helped you, and you know it.”

Thastre nodded, uprighting her seat and sitting in it again with a sigh, pausing as she found the words to explain, “I suppose... I still have... hope for the Empire. That it can change.”

“Change to what, exactly?”

The Chiss looked up, meeting the amber eyes of the Sith, “To become a place where I do not have to raise my daughter in fear.”

She paused again, and Messalina did not interrupt her, despite the burning itch to say something inflammatory.

Eventually, the Chiss looked up into the Sith’s eyes, “If I must sacrifice my sanity and sit on the Dark Council to make the Empire more safe, tar to k'uscasi bah to htisah, I will do it.”

Messalina grinned smugly and leaned back in her chair, “You may not have to sit on the Council to change the Empire.”

Thastre furrowed her brow, “What do you mean?”

“Zakuul is a much greater challenge to safety and peace than the Sith Empire. You know as well as I do that the Dark Council can’t do shit. But, if we - _you_ \- save the galaxy from Zakuul, we could come back to the Empire-”

“And we could ch'atkuscah csah it in earnest,” the Chiss finished, bringing her fingers to her chin in thought, “We could change the entire way hah k'on'vseah, the culture of fear, the cult around the Emperor.”

The grin widened on Messalina’s face, “And we happen to know an Imperial defector who is looking to do just that.”

Thastre looked at her in confusion for a moment before realization dawned on her, “Minister Beniko?”

Messalina flicked the switch to power up the holocommunicator in the center of the table, “Shall we call her?”

She’d anticipated this moment, manipulated it into being even, and had Lord Beniko’s personal communicator frequency already imported into the holocomm. All she had to was press the button and wait for her to pick up.

The Sith Lord’s face was stoic as she answered, but her energies were extremely anxious and defensive, “Darth Nox, I can’t say I expected you to call.”

“There’s no need to panic, Lord Beniko. Darth Imperius and I have an offer for you.”

Thastre nodded solemnly but said nothing.

Lana’s eyes darted between the two of them, “An offer?”

“We’d like to help you rescue the Wrath.”

\---

He sat on the cool rocky ground, listening as the wind whipped through his cave. His lekku draped over his shoulders, shuddering as the cold hit them and threatened to put out the small fire that both lit and heated the space. But he held his hands in front of him, erecting a small shield around the flame. He dropped the shield once the wind changed directions, relaxing his shoulders into a meditative position again, never once opening his eyes.

It was peaceful in the mountain cave. There were no people to run to him, demanding his presence. No one hurt or dying or in need of his help. No politics. No war. Just him, the dirt, and the wind. Even as the winter air bit at his face, Lek’rume was happiest here. The slightly stale air of the cave made no difference, and he sighed contentedly. His morning meditations were always the most peaceful part-

His holocomm vibrated loudly beside him.

He grumbled and opened one eye, reaching over to answer the call and closing his eye again.

“I’ll be in in a minute, babe,” he answered, knowing it would be his husband who was calling him. Cytharat almost always called once he got worried about Lek’rume catching cold or frostbite or sometimes just when breakfast was ready. Lek’rume had left his holocomm back in the house once, but returned to a lengthy lecture about his safety and what would have happened if he slipped and fell down the mountain or if Cytharat had burned the house down or any number of other catastrophes had befallen them while Lek’rume sat in blissful uninterrupted meditation. He’d only left the holocomm behind once.

“Do you always answer that way?”

Lek’rume nearly jumped out of his skin, the sing-song voice replying entirely unlike the sultry tones of the Sith Pureblood. He put his hands on the ground to keep from tipping over, looking at the caller with wide-eyes.

“Vette? H-how-? W-what are you-?”

The Twi’lek laughed, “Nice to see you, too, Lek. The hermit cloak looks good on you. Bold fashion choice. I like it.”

His lekku twitched and he desperately tried to push them off his shoulders and behind him before they betrayed him. Fortunately holos hadn’t figured out how to display color well enough to catch how deeply he was blushing at her flippant remarks.

He swallowed hard and attempted to look less disheveled, “You’re looking well.”

Vette smiled and his whole body wanted to implode at the sight of the joy in her.

“Yeah, I’m doing good. Can’t complain.”

There was another voice hovering in the background, “Vette, my love, is the ship ready for the jump to hyperspace?”

Vette turned her head, “Uh, yeah, should be.”

The second speaker entered the frame of the holo and Lek’rume felt himself deflating as Jaesa Willsaam’s image appeared, her head buried in a datapad. But she looked up and made eye contact with him.

“Oh, hello Lek’rume,” she greeted gently, turning to her wife again, “Vette, you were going to tell me when you were calling him.”

Vette shrugged and grinned widely, “I’m calling Lek’rume.”

Jaesa shook her head, but the small smile on her lips couldn’t be missed.

Lek’rume took a deep breath, taking the momentary distraction to sit up and brush himself off.

“It’s nice to see you, Jaesa,” he greeted in return. And it was true. He did like Jaesa. He especially liked how happy she made Vette, but she was a fascinating woman in her own right. She’d seen straight through him the first time they met, noting unceremoniously that he was the worst liar she’d ever met. Which was probably true. Lek’rume donned the hermit cloak and avoided sentient contact, but he wasn’t half as mysterious and wise as he hoped he’d be. It was hard to be mysterious and wise when the neighboring village saw him hanging onto his husband and tripping over his own feet to save a nerf calf from getting trampled.

He was probably known as that crazy guy who liked to pretend he lived in the mountain.

Jaesa addressed him again, dragging his attention back to the present, “Lek’rume, we have a favor to ask of you.”

He looked to Vette, who nodded excitedly, and he felt butterflies in his stomach again.

“What do you need?” he asked, knowing he was going to regret it but unable to bear the thought of disappointing her. His lekku twitched again, and he wrapped them around his hand to keep them still.

Vette’s eyes were bright and wide, even through the fuzzy holoimage.

“We need you to help us save the galaxy,” she said with the confidence of a Sith. She was so full of energy, so thrilled, he didn’t even need to have Force powers to notice. And even if he wasn’t still borderline in love with her, he wouldn’t have been able to bypass the sheer ludicrousy of the statement.

Who was he kidding? He was absolutely still in love with Vette, and he absolutely could not bypass how ridiculous that statement was.

He let out a laugh, “I’m sorry, you must have the wrong person.”

Vette frowned and shook her head, “Absolutely not.”

“Are you sure?” he asked, wiping a tear from his eye, “I’m not exactly savior of the galaxy material.”

Vette looked to Jaesa, the disappointment radiating off of her. Lek’rume suddenly wished he could take back the last three seconds. Or become a very small bug that could just fly away and never speak to another being ever again.

“You’ve been out of galactic politics for years,” Jaesa explained, taking over for her wife, “You are unaffiliated with Empire or Republic, but you are a strong warrior who has been known to pick up the mantle of Sith Lord when it comes to protecting the innocent.”

It sounded like she was complimenting him. And Lek’rume never had responded particularly well to compliments. So he kept his mouth shut, hoping she’d just continue without his response.

“Zakuul is the biggest bully the galaxy has seen in centuries,” she explained calmly, “and it will take a force of individuals from all factions to defeat them.”

Vette looked at him, holding eye contact, “The galaxy needs you, Lek. I need you.”

He closed his eyes and exhaled, all but cursing aloud.

“Alright,” he conceded at last, “what do you need me to do?”

“For now, just meet us on Manaan,” Jaesa continued, “Our coalition will meet there to discuss our next steps. Feel free to bring Lord Cytharat with you if you believe he can aid us.”

“I’ll see what he wants to do,” he mumbled.

Vette took the datapad from Jaesa and started typing furiously, “Great! We’ll send you the meeting coordinates and see you there! Thanks, Lek!”

And just like that, they were gone.

Lek’rume put his hands to his face and dragged them down slowly, letting out a pained whine.

\---

“Ouch! You don’t have to try and inflict more pain, you know.”

The Togruta eyed his patient, “Maybe this time it will actually dissuade you from running headlong into a fight with only a plasteel spoon.”

He winced as the Togruta wiped an alcohol-laden swab across the broken skin around his implants, “I had to keep my cover, it would have been suspicious if I _hadn’t_ joined the fight.”

There was silence in the tiny room for a moment as Maraalor thought over his response. He’d patched up the spy in front of him no fewer than four times in the last week alone, always returning to him bruised and bloody, citing some brawl related to his undercover op as the reason for his injuries.

He sighed, channeling the Force through his palm and cupping the side of the other man’s face, “I _hate_ when I have to worry about you, Theron.”

“I know,” he replied quietly, bringing his bandaged hand to the hand Maraalor had put on his cheek and pushing his head against it gently. He looked up from where he sat and searched the Togruta’s eyes for something. Maraalor wasn’t sure what.

“Would it make a difference if I told you to be careful next time?” the Togruta healer asked, attempting to focus on the Force rather than the sad golden puppy eyes that looked up at him pleadingly.

Theron smiled a little, “I’ll do my best.”

He leaned forward and pressed his face into Maraalor’s chest - even with Theron seated, he wasn’t that much taller than him - and wrapped his arms around him. The Togruta rested his head against Theron’s and wrapped his arms around his neck. Theron turned his head so he could breathe, little puffs of air from his exhales hitting Maraalor’s lekku teasingly. It was damn hard to stay mad at him.

But as soon as the tender moment began, they were interrupted.

“Jonas Balkar, you get your ass in there!” the voice of Maraalor’s twin sister bombarded them as she all but kicked the door in. Theron and Maraalor separated instantly, jerking apart as if they’d been having a secret rendezvous that had been found out.

“Say that a little louder, babe, I think there was someone in the Duros Sector who didn’t hear you.”

She flicked his ear and directed him to the seat next to Theron, “Sit. Down.”

Maraalor shook his head as Jonas reluctantly sat down.

“Hey, Shan,” he greeted cheerily, “How’s it going? Is your Telosi nagging you as much as mine?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Maraalor answered for him, “Now give me your arm.”

Jonas winced as he extended it. Maraalor took it, examining it and turning it, watching his patient’s reactions as he did so before he started focusing his energies into healing it, golden ripples of the Force connecting his hands to Jonas’ arm. His sister paced nervously, running her hands over her purple and white lekku incessantly.

“Maire, hun, you’re making me dizzy,” Jonas said, holding out his good arm to her.

She walked over and took his hand in hers, wrapping her other arm around him and kissing the side of his head.

“I’m alright, babe, promise,” he soothed even as he winced when Maraalor moved his elbow.

“That’s a goddamn lie,” she sniffled, “I _hate_ when I have to worry about you, Jonas.”

Maraalor paused to shoot Theron a pointed look. Maire did not have the same affinity for the Force as her brother, but they were still twins, and still had an uncanny ability to parrot each other. They were almost identical in many ways - they had the same purple montrals and lekku, the same blue skin, the same skin patterns, the same vividly green eyes, the same short stature, the same attraction to spies who ran into danger without a second thought - the only true difference being that Maraalor was built like a stick of sinewy meat jerky and Maire was built like a fluffy sweet roll.

Maraalor continued to massage the Force through Jonas’ arm while Maire put herself to work bandaging the scrapes on his knees and face. The tiny hotel room they operated out of settled into a relative silence for a few moments, and Maraalor looked over to Theron nervously - the only time the four of them were this quiet was when something was wrong. But Theron met Maraalor’s eyes immediately and encouraged him with a smile. Maybe he could convince him to stay for the night.

But the silence was short-lived, and the holoterminal pinged behind them.

“I got it,” Theron called, pushing himself off the examination table. Maraalor nodded, keeping his attention on Jonas.

“Hello, Theron,” an all-too-familiar voice greeted gently.

“Uh hello, Barsen’thor,” he replied, sounding unsure of himself suddenly, “What can we do for you?”

Maraalor turned around and joined Theron at the holoterminal, scrutinizing her every movement.

“Kalina,” he greeted unceremoniously, “when was the last time you saw a doctor?”

Her posture straightened defensively, “That’s not the reason I called.”

He raised an eyebrow at her, “I’m aware. You didn’t answer my question.”

She sighed, “It’s probably been a year - but that’s hardly relevant-”

“Your health is always relevant,” he argued, “You’re leaning harder on your staff, and I can see your knees wobbling from here. You won’t be able to stand at all if you don’t get someone to look at you.”

It was an argument they’d had dozens of times over the last four years. Maraalor, being one of the top students in his class of healers, had been attached to Kalina’s crew after the effects of her shielding technique had manifested. He’d split his time between her ship and his own duties to the Order, making sure her health hadn’t degenerated horrifically and that she was keeping on top of it. All things considered, she was handling it well, but she was the only patient he’d had who he couldn’t heal and that pissed him off. If he was being truthful, it ate at him still some nights, and he’d lie awake trying to brainstorm what mechanisms had caused her condition, and inevitably he’d come up with nothing he hadn’t already tried, cursing the ancient Jedi who’d created the technique in the first place.

“Are you volunteering for the job again, Master Telosi?” she asked, a glint in her eyes visible through the holoimage.

Maraalor crossed his arms, “Depends.”

“Theron can come, too. Jonas and Maire, as well, if they’re up for it.”

“Up for what?” Theron asked, hands on his hips defiantly.

She grinned, standing up straighter, pushing some of her weight off the staff, “Lana Beniko and I are creating an inter-faction alliance. Republic and Empire. And we’re going to take on Zakuul. Strictly off-the-books, without the authority of either government, Imperial Intelligence, or SIS. Just a coalition of folks we trust and who want to see the end of a tyrant.”

This had clearly been Kalina’s plan all along. She’d known that Maraalor would be hesitant to sign up for something big. Especially after the False Revan debacle and then Ziost. He decided more than a year ago that he was done running around the galaxy for the Jedi. He needed the time and space to do his own work, and the Order had always felt restrictive to him. But Kalina knew, she knew, she could wrangle him into whatever machinations she had by playing to his lingering loyalty to her. And judging by the look on Theron’s face - all but frothing at the mouth in excitement - he knew she’d succeeded. There was no way in hell he was going to let Theron run off alone to the greatest threat this galaxy had known in centuries.

He sighed, “Kalina.”

“Maraalor,” she replied cheekily.

Theron looked to him, hope and excitement in his eyes. And he couldn’t bear the thought of losing that, even if it meant risking losing the man entirely.

“Fine,” he conceded quietly, “Where do you want us?”

“Manaan. I’ll send you the coordinates when you get to the space station.”

Maraalor nodded, but didn’t say anything, so Theron stepped up to the terminal.

“Thank you, Master Lornacch. We’ll leave shortly.”

She smiled broadly, and nodded before disconnecting the call. Maraalor bowed his head and put a hand to his face. He felt Theron wrap his arms around him and lean down to press a kiss to the top of his head.

“We’re going too, right?” Maire asked. She was leaning against the examination table now, her fingers intertwined with her husband’s. There was a wicked grin on her face, delighting in his obvious discomfort.

“Of course we’re going, dear,” Jonas replied, though the question was directed to Maraalor, “The Barsen’thor herself invited us. We can’t turn that down, can we?”

Theron pulled away slightly from Maraalor, “Think of what we can do, love. We can bring peace to the galaxy without the oversight of bureaucracies or governments or the Jedi Order.”

“But Zakuul?” he asked, burying his face back into Theron’s chest, “You’ve seen what they’ve done, Theron.”

“And you know we have to stop them.”

“No,” he protested, “I know _someone_ has to stop them. But it doesn’t have to be me and it sure as hell doesn’t have to be _you_. Haven’t I nearly lost you enough already?”

Maire and Jonas were silent behind them. Truthfully, it wasn’t really a conversation that he wanted to have in front of them, but there was no avoiding it now. He was already fighting a losing battle, having agreed to meet Kalina’s alliance or whatever. Might as well go down in flames in front of everyone.

“I’ll be careful,” Theron replied sincerely, quietly, “but doesn’t the rest of the galaxy deserve to be safe, too?”

Maraalor sniffled into Theron’s chest, squeezing him tighter. He was right, though. The rest of galaxy - as fucked up and awful as it was - was just as deserving of safety as the four of them were. And whereas the rest of the galaxy was helpless against the Zakuulan Star Fortresses and skytroopers, they were now in the perfect position to actually do something significant.

“Alright,” he conceded at last, pulling away from Theron and wiping at his eyes with his sleeve, “but if you die, I’m gonna kill you.”

Theron laughed, “Fair enough.”

\---

Koth flicked through his datapad half-heartedly, noticing the blinking red battery light and sighing. He swung his feet over the side of the mostly whole chair (couch? Lawn chair? He had no idea what it was in its original not mud-encrusted form) he sat in, standing up and throwing the pad on top of his belongings. His time with the shared charger wasn’t for another hour or so.

All told, his defection probably could have gone worse. It could have gone better, of course, but he hadn’t exactly been in possession of a pleasure barge on Denon. Most of his crew had split up immediately, going into hiding; he couldn’t say he blamed them. But Koth himself was restless, even hours after they hit hyperspace, he’d felt restless. Like he’d left something behind on that Scyva-forsaken planet.

Len had told him he was insane to come back to Zakuul after all that had happened, that he would be shot on sight, that he couldn’t possibly hope to return to the Spire. Koth, even pacing neurotically and finding his hands shaking constantly, knew he was right, at least partially. Zakuul had always been lax about the ships it allowed into its atmosphere, trusting that an intruder would be found out soon enough by the Knight forces. Knights, with their adamant faith in the Immortal Emperor and their rewarded Force powers, had the ability to read people particularly well, easily sniffing out terrorists or assassins and bringing them to swift justice. Koth had assumed the same would be the case now, even with the change in ruler.

His intention had been to land in the Endless Swamp and help the refugees and exiles, bring them to the surface or to another planet or something. But his shuttle was shot down just outside the Spire, and he’d all but crash landed, stranding himself.

It wasn’t his best plan, he admitted.

He did have the advantage that his ship still had enough supplies and fuel to feed the people and power their devices for a few weeks if they used it sparingly. Hence the rotating schedule for the charging station. There were about three dozen of them in this group, including two ex-Knights who were planning some sort of attack on Overwatch. Koth was still wary of them, having been pursued relentlessly these last months by Senya Tirall and her cohort of Knights. Not that he hadn’t been wary of them before, but especially so now.

He walked the circumference of their camp, keeping his rifle at the ready in case skytroopers found them or the local wildlife was bold enough to enter. But the swamps were relatively quiet today, the hanging clouds and mist driving off most of the predators. His boots were caked in dirt, and as he squelched through the mud he wondered how thick the coating would be.

The trail dried out a bit if he left the safety of the camp, and he looked back briefly before deciding he needed the distance, even if it was temporary.

He talked to himself as he went, muttering a monologue to the swamps. It started mundane enough, commenting on the sounds of the creatures, the dull brown of the plants.

“Guess even you guys would need sun to be colorful, huh?”

The further he went from camp, the harder it was to push the thought of Valkorion out of his mind, though. Koth didn’t know why he came back to Zakuul, not exactly. Sure, he had every intention of helping the exiled and homeless, but he could have done that on just about any planet. By all stretches of the imagination, coming back to Zakuul was stupid. Probably the stupidest thing he could have done. He wanted to pretend that in his grief and guilt after Denon, his brain just decided to ignore the ramifications of his plans, but he knew it wasn’t true.

The truth was, he felt lost.

Not physically lost - he could still see the lights from camp in the darkening forest - but spiritually, he supposed was probably the right word for it. He’d spent his life believing in Valkorion, praying his faithfulness would be rewarded like the Knights. He enlisted in the army, he did as he was told, he prayed to Valkorion and the Old Gods. But nothing he ever did seemed to be good enough. He never developed the powers of the Knights, the human ranks of the army were being replaced by skytroopers, and it was getting harder and harder to believe in the Immortal Empire. The Knights - the men and women rewarded for their faith - were committing atrocities across the galaxy in Zakuul’s name. They did things that went against everything Valkorion stood for. They were destroying the galaxy, not bringing it together.

How was anyone supposed to continue believing after witnessing what he did on Denon? Herding civilians like sheep to the slaughter. Destroying entire towns and cities, razing planets’ histories to the ground, declaring it part of the glorious Eternal Empire. It was horrifying. It was the reason he defected. But he still doubted.

He’d come back to Zakuul for a sign. A sign that he did the right thing, or the wrong thing, or that he was _enough_.

Even among the exiles, he’d found a fair number who took to morning prayers still, finding comfort and joy in their continuing faith. He’d joined them at first, hoping their faith would be infectious and he’d find the same comfort if he was genuine enough in his invocations. But as much as it broke his heart to admit it, he’d found nothing. It was uncomfortable, his words were stilted and unnatural, and he felt wholly out of place there.

“Maybe that’s why I came out here,” he commented flatly, looking up at the canopy of trees, searching for the last signs of daylight. The bits of sky he could see above him were pinks and purples and oranges, and he yearned for a view of it that wasn’t obscured by the forest. But it was getting dark, and he could feel his mood souring.

By the time he made it back to camp, he could plug in his datapad, and as he charged it he continued to flip through the names of known smugglers. He was going to need help if he planned on actually helping these people, and he couldn’t trust his normal contacts anymore. It was impossible to know who would sell him out for the credits. Of course, he didn’t know if these smugglers would sell him out, either, but if wandering the galaxy for the last few months had taught him anything, it’s that the rest of the galaxy _hated_ Zakuul. It was probably likely he could find someone who had a good enough soul to help some refugees.

There were some smugglers he could rule out pretty automatically; people who smuggled spice for the Hutts, sold out their employers, worked for the biggest payday. But there were a fair number who he felt he might be able to trust.

“Not that a _real_ Zakuulan would ever trust an outsider,” he mumbled woefully.

Koth stopped in his tracks at the image of a beautiful dark-skinned man, and looked at his name: Raj Politryk. His smile seemed to light up the datapad, and his green eyes sparkled on the flat screen. Koth felt his stomach knot in excitement as he read the man’s biography: defected from the Sith Empire when he was sixteen, barred from entering the Republic military a year later, began to smuggle supplies to the needy. He swindled money out of the rich, stole from Republic and Imperial caches, and accidentally became a Republic hero because he wanted to help people afflicted by war. But he was looked down upon by the Republic government, and even as they pardoned him, they made it clear in the two years since that he was unwelcome.

Raj Politryk.

He thought the name sounded vaguely familiar, but his head was spinning too much to focus on it. This Raj sounded too good to be true. But he was desperate for something to believe in.


	6. Darkness over Tython

_Raelyn,_

_Zakuul._

_Zakuul is where they are holding you. Between Rimea’s sleuthing and my Force abilities, we finally discovered who is holding you and where. Unfortunately, it is Emperor Arcann himself who holds you as a trophy in the highest levels of the Spire. “Assassin of the Immortal Emperor”, he claims. I knew that you were connected in all of this - there is no such thing as a coincidence where the Force is concerned - but until now, I had perhaps held out hope that I could rescue you and then work to free the galaxy from Zakuul. But it looks like both will have to be conquered at once._

_Having spent significant time recently in the cockpit of Rimea’s ship, I often remember the nights we spent in the courtyard, the lights of the house turned off, looking up at the stars. You’d lay on my stomach and point out which stars were which, and recite poems about the constellations. Of heroes and villains, of lovers, of joy, of sorrow, of tragedy. It makes me wonder how our story will end._

_We are close, Raelyn. Soon the machinations will begin in earnest._

_Just hold on. Hold on for me, my love._

_L._

\---

The sun of Tython beat down on Alema’tann’s face, and she lifted her head to its warmth. The speeder flew from the Jedi Temple to Kalikori Village, the wind whipping through her lekku.

“The engine needs to be tuned,” she commented absently, tapping her fingers on the cold exposed metal, pressing her fingers against the outside of the speeder, delighting in the way it almost came to meet her touch.

Her wife snorted next to her, her voice wise and soothing, yet wry and playful, “The things you hear, Alema.”

She shrugged, “You don’t hear it? There’s a rattle in the front left quadrant that’s causing us to bounce more than usual.”

“So long as we’re not in danger of being thrown out, I’m not going to worry about it.”

“Mmm no, but we should tell the techmaster before we leave.”

Soft lips pressed gently to her forehead, scarred and wrinkled from war and age, but just as tender as they had been the first time Toh’laji kissed her nearly twenty years ago. There was a certain love in Toh’laji that Alema’tann hadn’t experienced in anyone else before. It was obvious in the way she turned up her voice at the end of her sentences, the way she rubbed her thumb against Alema’tann’s shoulder, the way she radiated the energy of a protector. As the sun’s warmth and light soaked into Alema’tann’s skin, so too did the warmth and light of Toh’laji’s love.

The speeder descended and slowed in the way she expected, drawing to a full stop on the designated landing pad. The smell of Kalikori Village reminded Alema’tann of Ryloth; there was the salt from the sweat of the workers, the earth from the dirt of the village and the Rylothian clay the villagers had tracked in with them, the faint sweetness of the faded summer flowers, the crispness from the cool autumn air, and the rich smoky smells of meat cooked over fires. The Kalikori Village smelled very little like the home she’d made on Nar Shaddaa with its oil and grease and stench of decay and desperate living. True, she’d come to appreciate Nar Shaddaa for all its troubles, but the Kalikori Village, even while mired in anxiety and fear, was still far more welcoming to an outsider.

She heard the soft patter of Toh’laji’s boots on the dirt as she rounded the speeder, her gait heavy and slightly uneven from a hip injury she suffered nearly thirty years ago, not that many others would notice now. But when Toh’laji put her hand to Alema’tann’s shoulder, peace and joy pulsed through her palm. Alema’tann clambered out of the speeder gracefully, planting her feet squarely beneath her in the mostly compacted earth. She reached up and rubbed Toh’laji’s nose with her own, bringing her hands to her wife’s face and running her fingers over the contours she’d memorized long ago.

The breeze fluttered gently through the trees, carrying the sounds of the birds and the uxibeasts, and the hushed conversations from farther into the village. They spoke of war and fear and worry, of children without parents and clans without leaders and Twi’leks without homes. Alema’tann shivered slightly. She had known that the Twi’leks on Tython were eager and anxious to legalize their village, but fear draped the very canvas of the land. The chill of it settled into her bones uncomfortably and she leaned into the side of Toh’laji.

“Can you feel it?” she asked softly.

The air above her shifted - Toh’laji was nodding, “Yes. They are afraid.”

“Goddess preserve us.”

“Goddess preserve us,” Toh’laji echoed, leading them to the matriarch’s home and the meeting place of the village.

Ranna Tao’Ven waited for them at the doorway, ushering them inside, “Welcome to our village, High Priestess.”

Her voice was wrong. It was Ranna Tao’Ven’s, yes, but it was not the confident alto that Alema’tann had met two years prior when their planning had begun. It shook ever so slightly and intoned upwards, sounding as if she was covering up a secret and hiding it from the world.

Alema’tann took her hand from her wife’s belt and took both of Ranna’s, holding them tightly, “What’s wrong, Ranna?”

The other Twi’lek squeezed Alema’tann’s hands, but shook her head, “Nothing, High Priestess. We are humbled and overjoyed by your presence.”

There was little use in pushing the matter, so Alema’tann nodded and allowed Ranna to lead her into the main room of her home, the slightly sweet smell of the wood and fragrances from the kitchen filling her senses. There was a bowl of rycrit stew in front of her at the table and she smiled warmly as she slid into the chair, Toh’laji and Ranna sitting on either side of her.

“Hello everyone,” she greeted, her voice echoing slightly off the walls of the room, “shall we pray to the Goddess before we begin our meal and conversation?”

A muted chorus of approval went around the table and Alema’tann held her hands out in front of her in supplication, bowing her head.

“Goddess, we thank you for the meal before us and we pray that those who hunger are filled. We thank you for the sturdy roof above our heads and the clothing on our backs, and we pray that those without shelter and garments find warmth in their neighbors. We thank you for the company around the table and we pray that those who are lonely find comfort in your embrace. We thank you for the light and pray for those in darkness.”

A contemplative silence hung in the air for a moment as the other members of the group added their silent prayers to their Priestess’. Alema’tann lowered her hands, finding Toh’laji’s on the table waiting for her. She slid her hand into her wife’s, holding the rough and calloused palm tightly. Toh’laji in turn enveloped Alema’tann’s hand in hers as they ate.

There was very little conversation during the meal, and while Alema’tann usually relished in the quiet, hearing the small noises of the house and whatever was outside its walls, tonight the only sounds were the chinking of metal spoons on ceramic bowls. The sound of it penetrated her skull, rattled around her brains, and left her feeling overstimulated and with a raging headache. She surmised that it wasn’t the spoons and bowls themselves that pained her so, but the dread and fear of her people that echoed in every corner of the room and in every half-eaten bowl of stew.

The tension in the room dispersed somewhat as they got to business. Alema’tann, as one of the spiritual leaders of Twi’leks across the galaxy, had taken it upon herself to help the Twi’leks of Kalikori Village draft a petition to legalize their settlement. The Jedi at the temple had more or less allowed them there for decades by this point, but were forbidden by Republic law to actually help them with defense or agriculture or trade. And since the transition of power in the Republic from Dorian Janarus to Leontyne Saresh - a fairly upstanding but human white male who had never personally been affected by the bias against Twi’leks to a female Twi’lek who had overcome decades of machinations against her to rise to her position - various Twi’lek villages across the galaxy had been petitioning for legalization. The results were mixed, as they always were in politics, but Alema’tann had made it her mission to ensure safety and peace for the Kalikori people, and remained optimistic. She’d appealed to Saresh’s heritage, to the mission of the Republic, to the inequalities the Twi’leks faced. The result was a ten thousand word document, edited dozens of times, signed by everyone old enough to hold a tablet pen. Tonight was the night they sent the petition to the senate. And prayed.

Alema’tann was still praying when she and Toh’laji returned to their guest quarters at the Jedi Temple. The marble rails along the ramp to the second floor were smooth and cool, inviting her touch. And at the top of the stairs she heard the delighted tones of the crechemaster.

“Oh, Alema’tann! Toh’laji!” she greeted, “Welcome back! How was your trip to Kalikori Village? I am so sorry I could not accompany you, but Thexan needed me here-”

“It’s perfectly alright, Ona’la,” Alema’tann soothed, moving her hand from the railing to her friend’s, “Our trip was lovely. How is Thexan? It must be difficult for him to be so far from Zakuul.”

Ona’la sighed, but kept her optimism, “Some days are better than others. Today was a bad day, but tomorrow will be better.”

The third Twi’lek squeezed Alema’tann’s hand in her own, shrugging her lekku over her shoulder so they brushed against her friend’s. Ona’la’s hands were soft - far softer than Alema’tann had expected upon their first meeting. And her voice was rich and lovely, full of warmth and love. She smelled of floral oils and the residual musky scent of her husband. She’d had the reputation among the Jedi of being the nicest of all of them, willing to give anyone another chance to redeem themselves. Which is supposedly the reason she’d been given charge of Thexan Tirall, the former prince of Zakuul and twin brother to Arcann. Supposedly, Thexan had fallen for her immediately and she was the entire reason he defected and agreed to help the Republic. Alema’tann surmised the truth was far more complicated, but it hardly mattered at this point. By all accounts, Thexan, while still technically a prisoner of the Republic, had disavowed his family and his home and become invaluable in trying to predict the moves of the Eternal Fleet. Not that it had actually stopped Arcann from invading, but the information Thexan had given certainly slowed Arcann’s advances. Instead of taking days to conquer a planet, it took Arcann weeks or even months in some cases.

Alema’tann removed herself from Toh’laji’s arm and moved to Ona’la’s instead, allowing the third Twi’lek to lead her. They passed a handful of children on their way to their rooms, each of them squealing with delight when Ona’la reached down to hug them and gently tell them to go to their rooms for the night.

“Miss Ona’la!” one girl said, braver than the others, but her voice was soft, “Miss Ona’la, Mister Thexan is worried about you. He won’t say it, but he is.”

Ona’la stopped and bent down to take the girl’s hand in hers, “Thank you, Rhian. If you see Mister Thexan on your way back to bed, you can tell him I’ll be there soon and he won’t have to worry anymore.”

“Yes, Miss Ona’la!”

The girl scurried off down the hallway, her feet pattering quickly and confidently.

“Rhian is the Barsen’thor’s daughter,” Ona’la explained, returning her free hand to cover Alema’tann’s forearm, “She’s hardly three but she’s already as perceptive as her mother.”

“And as gentle as her father,” Toh’laji added, and Alema’tann could hear the smile on her face.

“That’s the consensus, and from what I hear of Lieutenant Iresso, that’s quite a statement,” Ona’la replied, stopping in front of their room and gently moving Alema’tann’s hands back to her wife, “I should see to Thexan, but it was lovely to see both of you. Perhaps in the morning we can meet for breakfast and I’ll introduce you to him properly.”

Alema’tann nodded, “That would be lovely. We’ll see you there, my friend.”

Ona’la glowed, radiating the love and peace she was known for, “Have a nice night, Alema’tann, Toh’laji.”

“Goodnight, Ona’la,” Toh’laji replied, opening the door to their room.

The Jedi Temple had spared them no luxury in their shared room; stems of Rylothian conifer scented the room from a vase on the table, lekku oils had been provided in the refresher, gentle unscented soaps lined the bathtub, the tiny kitchen was stocked with roasted gornt and munch-fungus, and the bed was spread with a multitude of blankets of different textures and weights for whatever they might desire. It was far more than Alema’tann ever wanted, but she appreciated the thought and time that went into procuring the amenities for them. Once she sat at the edge of the bed, Toh’laji returned to the kitchen, opening the cabinet and pulling out the munch-fungus. The savory earthy smell wafted into the bedroom.

“Would you like some, dear?”

Alema’tann grinned and pulled off her shoes, “No, thank you. I’m still full of stew.”

“Alright,” her wife replied, mouth full.

Her boots tapped across the floor, and Alema’tann smiled as they neared her. Toh’laji stopped in front of her, and bent down to kiss her. Her lips tasted of mushrooms and stew and the chocolate she’d tried to sneak earlier in the day, and they were wonderful. Alema’tann wrapped her arms around Toh’laji’s neck, deepening the kiss and pulling herself closer.

“I love you, freykaa,” Toh’laji whispered against her mouth.

Alema’tann shivered in delight, “I love you, too.”

They quickly changed into night clothes, and lay on the bed together, Toh’laji’s arms enveloping the much smaller Alema’tann in a warm embrace, all but suffocating her. Alema’tann snuggled happily into her wife, finally being able to shut out all the sounds and smells and feelings from the rest of the world and just enjoy the company of her favorite person. Their lekku lazily intertwined as their lips pressed soft kisses to each other’s skin until they both fell into a blissful sleep.

But it was not to last.

Some hours later, Alema’tann woke up with a start, the sounds of battle ships ringing in her ears. She bolted upright and threw her hand to the bed, expecting to feel Toh’laji beside her, but there was nothing. She grasped at the sheets in a panic, feeling her heartbeat in her chest and her throat. There was rustling out from the kitchen and muffled voices, but Alema’tann couldn’t make out the words in her panic.

“Toh,” she called, “Toh, where are you?”

The door to the rest of the quarters slid open quickly, and within seconds, Toh’laji wrapped her up in her arms.

“I’m sorry, my love, I’m here.”

Alema’tann ran her hands over Toh’laji’s lekku and rested her head against her chest, “No, no, it’s okay. What’s going on? There are ships above us.”

“Zakuul,” Toh’laji whispered, squeezing Alema’tann tightly, “They’re here.”

“Colonel Toh’laji,” the singular voice of Satele Shan cut through their reunion, “You and High Priestess Alema’tann need to get to safety.”

Alema’tann tugged on Toh’laji’s sleeve, silently asking to stand and face their guest. Toh’laji obliged, her arms shaking slightly. But Alema’tann stood bravely, facing the direction of Satele’s voice.

“Master Shan,” she greeted, pausing as she decided against apologizing for her dress, “With all due respect to your position, we must stay. We cannot abandon the Jedi who have been so gracious to us, and we cannot abandon Kalikori Village whom we swore to protect.”

“Freykaa,” Toh’laji pleaded quietly, her voice trembling.

But Satele gave the order, “It will do the galaxy no good for you to die here, Alema’tann. With the Colonel’s permission, I’ve already told Ona’la to gather as many children as she can into your ship.”

Toh’laji squeezed Alema’tann’s hand. The decision had been made. All while she was sleeping.

There was a rumble and a crash outside: the first shots of the Eternal Fleet. Alema’tann didn’t need to see them to feel how huge they were. The entire planet shook from the energy of their engines, the air was filled with the faint smell of distant exhaust, and the noise. Dozens upon dozens of engines rumbling in the outer atmosphere, and Alema’tann assumed there must have been many more beyond, where the sound would not travel.

“Gather your things and leave,” Satele ordered, strong and determined, “Take the future of our Order with you and keep them safe. May the Force be with you.”

Alema’tann nodded silently. The Jedi Master ignited her lightsaber and sprinted from their room to meet the enemy.

“Alema,” Toh’laji urged, attempting to keep her calm facade intact.

The other Twi’lek nodded in defeat. They’d just sent the petition that would ensure the safety of the Twi’leks on the Jedi homeworld, and not twelve hours later they were abandoning them to the whims of Zakuul. Her world seemed to darken, the light and excitement from the rest of her trip snuffed out immediately. Toh’laji picked up their bags in one hand, and offered her other arm to Alema’tann to hold. She latched on like normal, and the two of them hurried down the hallway and to the small spaceport inside the Temple.

A blast shook the Temple violently, the roof beginning to crumble, and a slab from the marble railings falling to the ground in a deafening thud. The sounds of hundreds of droids marching in unison grew louder as they pressed forward into the Temple. Dozens of lightsabers ignited at once, and within seconds they were sweeping through the air, colliding with metal and slicing through it. There were screams of passion, of fear, of pain from the Jedi protectors, and while they were superior fighters to the skytroopers, there were far more of the droids. Toh’laji scooped Alema’tann up in her arms and broke into a sprint through the rest of the Temple.

“Toh’laji! Alema’tann!” Ona’la called to them, headed back the way they’d come, “Thexan and the first group of children are already in your ship, but I need help corralling the others.”

“I’ll help,” Toh’laji offered immediately, “Alema’tann can stay with the children there, and I’ll return to you.”

Ona’la put one hand to Alema’tann’s shoulder and the other to Toh’laji’s, “Thank you both.”

A large piece of rubble landed four feet beside them, and Toh’laji jumped, but Ona’la squeezed them both goodbye and continued her trek back into the dormitories, her lightsaber ignited behind her. Toh’laji took a deep breath before finishing their own journey, avoiding the fallen debris, and pulling out her pistol to beat back the few skytroopers who had made it past the wall of Jedi downstairs.

She slowed when they entered their ship, only then putting Alema’tann back on the ground.

“Will you be alright by yourself in here?” she asked, holding her wife’s hands in her own. She wasn’t trembling anymore, and her voice was strong.

Alema’tann nodded and reached up to press a kiss to Toh’laji’s forehead, “I know this ship like the back of my hand. Go help Ona’la, and I’ll keep the children calm.”

The ship shuddered as another wall of the Temple crumbled and another blast from a Zakuulan ship collided with a column.

Toh’laji held onto Alema’tann tightly until it settled, releasing her wife and taking a few steps to grab her assault cannon. It had been a decade since she’d actually needed it, but it was just as much a part of who she was as Alema’tann. So when Toh’laji asked to keep it on the ship, Alema’tann had agreed quickly. She was glad now that she did.

“Be safe, freykaa,” Alema’tann called to her wife as she stepped outside to the exit ramp.

“I will.”

Alema’tann turned around, all at once hit with a wall of emotions radiating from the lot of Force-sensitive children aboard. She dragged her fingers along the wall beside her as she took it in and made her way to the center of the ship, to the large open area where most of them would be.

“You don’t need to stay with me,” an adult male voice rose above the rest, gruff and deep and very much afraid.

Alema’tann sat in front of him and pointed to her eyes, “I wouldn’t be much help out there. Being blind does have its disadvantages.”

“O-oh I’m sorry, I didn’t know,” he stumbled.

Alema’tann put out her hands, catching his, “It’s quite alright, Thexan. Besides, you seem like you could use a friend, to deflect the children if nothing else.”

He indulged her with a weak chuckle, but didn’t pull his hands out of hers. She took this as a good sign, and called the children around them.

“I know it seems scary out there,” she explained gently, still holding onto Thexan's hands, but addressing everyone in the room, “but Miss Ona’la and Miss Toh’laji will return with the rest of your friends soon. And in the meantime, Mister Thexan and I will keep you safe. But I need you all to do me a favor.”

She felt the eyes on her, watching her expectantly.

“I need you all to meditate with us, okay?”

“Shouldn’t we go outside and help?” one of the children chimed.

“Yeah! We should fight them! Hi-yah!”

There was a tiny chorus of agreement, half a dozen of them standing up and making kicking motions that usually landed on another child. Thexan tensed and his breaths were short and tight, and Alema’tann squeezed his hands gently. The noise seemed to bother him most, his arms withdrawing as he cringed away from whichever child was being the loudest in that moment.

But the door hissed open and the voices of Toh’laji and Ona’la and another dozen children grabbed the attention of the ones Alema’tann and Thexan were watching, and they were momentarily distracted by the arrival of more of their friends. Rhian Lornacch was with them, her voice only barely betraying the fear she felt as she sat beside Thexan.

“Miss Ona’la says she and Miss Toh’laji have one more trip before we can go,” she explained, wrapping herself around one of Thexan’s arms.

“That’s good. Thank you, Rhian,” Alema’tann replied gently, removing one of her hands from Thexan and offering it to her. The girl held on tightly, her little hands squeezing with all their might as she fought to keep calm.

Toh’laji came over and kissed Alema’tann’s head, whispering a quick reassurance before running back out the door and into the Temple. The sounds of blaster fire were growing closer and louder, the ship rocking more violently in its hanger and more frequently. The sound of droids and ships were louder than the children, as rambunctious as they were, and it was a wonder how she held together at all. But she called the children around her again.

“My darlings, could you please all sit with with Mister Thexan and me? We have to make sure we have room for the others, and we can’t keep you safe if we don’t know where you are.”

They chattered to each other, but scooched closer and gathered around the two adults. Alema’tann took a deep breath and began to chant the Jedi Code aloud, quietly and evenly, encouraging the others to join her.

“There is no emotion, there is peace. There is no ignorance, there is knowledge. There is no passion, there is serenity. There is no chaos, there is harmony. There is no death, there is the Force.”

By the third time through it, all the children had joined her, and they all had calmed considerably. But there was a blast that hit the spaceport, sending the ship skidding a few feet, and many of them lost their concentration, panic rising in the air again. Thexan, who had been hypervigilant during their recitations, stood up swiftly, dropping Alema’tann’s hands. She fought him for only a second, only until she heard the scratching at the door.

“They’re here,” he said, suddenly donning the air of a warrior, his lightsaber igniting with a sizzle and a smooth hum, “Stay with them. I’ll fight them off. Do you have a weapon?”

“In the armory, to the left of the door,” she replied, pushing herself to her feet, listening closely to the way her voice echoed off the walls to try and determine where the children were. Thexan took her hand and led her to the entrance of the room, letting go so he could find her lightsaber. Goddess, she hadn’t used her lightsaber in decades, she hardly thought she was capable of wielding it now. But there were whimpers of frightened children behind her and she strengthened her resolve.

Thexan returned, placing the worn and familiar hilt into her hand, “I’ll keep as many of them as I can away from you. But if I fail-”

“Don’t, Thexan,” she interrupted, swallowing the nervous lump in her throat, “You can do this.”

He paused for a moment, but said nothing before he pulled away and walked back to the entrance. Alema’tann ignited her own saber, the slightly curved hilt fitting perfectly into her palm, and she rubbed her thumb over the familiar lines and indentations. She was never technically a part of the Jedi Order, but the Priestesses she grew up with recognized the Force in her when she was a child, and had trained her in melee combat. She’d kept the lightsaber with her for nearly forty years.

There was a hiss of the airlock disengaging, the grating sounds of dozens of droids falling over each other to get in the tiny ship. But the sound of Thexan’s lightsaber cutting through metal was louder, and he grunted as he fought them. His lightsaber swung through the air, the elegant swoosh sound making it back to Alema’tann. She ignited her own lightsaber, but prayed she wouldn’t have to use it.

_Goddess, may you stay my hand, may you protect those in my care, may we all survive this night._

“Thexan!” Ona’la cried, accompanied by the sound of a second lightsaber engaging and swiping at the skytroopers outside. Alema’tann breathed a sigh of relief, hearing beyond them the sound of as assault cannon destroying the door mechanism so more skytroopers couldn’t get inside. The ship muffled the sounds considerably, and the children behind her were beginning to cry even with one of the older children leading them in chanting the Code.

Something exploded outside the ship, and Alema’tann stepped forward, one hand on the wall of the ship, the other gripping her lightsaber tightly. There were so many cries, so many shrieks of terror and pain, she could hardly extract the source of one from another. She had no idea if the explosion was from a blast from the fleet or from a skytrooper, she had no idea if it had hurt anyone or who was closest to it, she had no idea how many skytroopers were left or if more were on their way. Everything was loud, and it was overwhelming, and Goddess preserve her, she hadn’t been this afraid since she was a child.

“Everyone in!” the authoritative voice of Toh’laji cut through the din, and Alema’tann realized that the sounds of the skytroopers outside had stopped almost completely. The sound of a dozen little feet neared and she disengaged her lightsaber as the last group of children passed her. Toh’laji’s assault cannon fell to the ground with a clank and the earthy smell of her wife filled her senses comfortingly.

“Is that everyone?” Alema’tann asked, reaching out for her.

Toh’laji took her hand, “I have to get Thexan, but everyone else is on. Can you get us out of here?”

“Is he alright?” Alema’tann asked with more than a little panic, but Toh’laji kissed her lekku and pulled away.

“He will be. But I need you to pilot us out of here.”

Alema’tann nodded, attaching her lightsaber to her belt so no wandering children could find it and turning back into the swath of them. She felt a bit like she was parting a body of water, hearing them move out of the way as she walked through them.

She slid into the pilot’s seat and placed her hands over the controls with a deep breath. The ship rocked from the impact of another blast, and she jerked it into action. Someone had already fired up the engines before she’d gotten on board nearly an hour ago, so it was quick work to stabilize the thrusters and turn on the echolocator. It pinged softly in the background, warning her of obstacles. The roof of the space station was open, thank the Goddess, so all she had to do was move the ship straight up, assuming they weren’t blasted out of the sky first.

“We’re in, freykaa!” Toh’laji called from behind her.

“Everyone hold on!” Alema’tann replied. She pulled up on the steering wheel, and felt the ship as it pushed off the ground, the landing gear slid back into the bowels, and the thrusters engaged. The echolocator pinged an alert to her left and she jerked the ship away from it.

“Easy, freykaa, you’ve got this,” Toh’laji called over the intercom.

She felt the presence of the fleet ship in front of her, and she took another deep breath before she began to swerve and maneuver out of the path of the fire. With the combination of the echolocator and the warnings she got from the Force, she had to trust her instincts to keep them from getting hit. As a result, the next few minutes were a blur, and she blocked out the noises of the children and her wife and her friends. The air around the fleet ship vibrated violently, echoing off of every other surface, allowing Alema’tann to navigate through it expertly. It wasn’t until she pressed the lever to engage the hyperdrive and she felt the woosh of hyperspace that she finally relaxed in her seat. Her arms felt like rubber hanging at her sides, and her jaw was sore from clenching it for so long.

But they were safe.

Ona’la came in and sat beside her, all but shaking.

“How’s Thexan?” Alema’tann asked, not having the energy to move her head or her hand to her friend.

Ona’la paused before she answered, “He’ll be okay. One of the skytroopers exploded in front of him, but he shielded himself from the worst of it.”

Alema’tann nodded, “Thexan fought bravely, Ona’la. You should be proud of him.”

She sniffled a little, “I’m always proud of him.”

They sat in silence for awhile as they decompressed, the sounds of the ship finally settling back into Alema’tann’s ears. The children were hesitant and nervous, but most of them had begun to chatter and play again. She couldn’t hear Toh’laji in the medbay, but she trusted her wife had everything under control.

“Do you mind if I call the Barsen’thor from up here?” Ona’la asked after a moment.

Alema’tann shook her head, “Of course not. The holoterminal is behind me.”

Ona’la stood and slowly took the four steps to the back of the cockpit, typing in the holofrequency with soft clicks. Alema’tann took a deep breath, wondering if she needed to participate in the conversation.

The clear panicked voice of the Barsen’thor cut through her thoughts, “Ona’la, thank the stars, is everyone okay? We heard about the invasion of Tython, did you escape? Is Rhian with you? I felt her panicking-”

“Everyone is fine, Kalina,” Ona’la replied, sweetly as always, “Rhian and the other children are on board with us, safe and out of Zakuul’s reach. For now, anyway.”

Kalina breathed an audible sigh of relief, “Thank you, Ona’la. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Oh, nonsense, you’d be fine without me. Who you really ought to thank is the High Priestess and her wife for letting us use their ship and for helping us gather the children on board.”

Alema’tann tiredly pushed herself out of the seat and turned to face the melodic voice of Kalina Lornacch.

“It’s been a long time since you and Miss Politryk stayed in my home, dear Barsen’thor,” she greeted warmly.

“Alema’tann? What are you doing on Tython?”

She shook her head, “It doesn’t matter at this point. We need a place to bring all these children. I can’t possibly care and teach them all back on Nar Shaddaa.”

“Of course,” Kalina agreed, “Come to Manaan. We have a stronghold there, a place safe enough and large enough for all of you. I’ll patch the coordinates through to your navcomputer.”

“Thank you so much, Kalina,” Ona’la replied, “We’ll see you soon.”

“Safe travels, and let me know if you need anything else.”

The call ended with another click, and Toh’laji’s boots clanged heavily around the corner. Alema’tann smiled and shivered as her wife wrapped her arms around her from behind, running her hands over her muscular arms and reaching over to kiss her cheek.

“How’s Thexan?”

“He’s fine,” she replied, straightening without letting go of her wife, “He’ll be sore for a couple days, but nothing major. He’s awake if you’d like to talk to him, Ona’la.”

Relief and joy radiated from the other Twi’lek, and she took Alema’tann’s hand in hers for a second before she left the room in a hurry.

“Where are we headed?” Toh’laji asked, craning her neck over Alema’tann’s shoulder to look at the navcomputer.

“Manaan,” Alema’tann answered, “Though I suspect that will only be the beginning.”

\---

Her chest hurt. It had vacillated between throbbing and aching, and for the last six days (was it really six? She’d lost track of time and couldn’t tell) she could hardly get out of bed. T3 had taken over most of the chores from her, sending M8 in to keep her company and make sure she ate something.

Caoimhe felt her stomach roll at the thought of it.

She stared up at the ceiling and wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her shirt, taking the moment of relative relief to do what she could. Her hair was a mess, she was sure, but her shoulders ached just reaching to the bun on her head. M8 came rolling into the room, a datapad perched precariously on its round dome. He beeped and whirred for her to take the instrument.

“Mate,” she whined, feeling the muscles in her chest strain as she said it, “What is it?”

The droid chirped at her.

“Tython?” she repeated.

She managed to roll her head, feeling her brain jostle around in the process, and she pressed her eyes shut for a second before she gathered the strength to reach for the datapad and read it. The screen was blindingly bright and she inhaled sharply through her teeth. M8 apologized profusely, whirring and spinning and honestly, it was overwhelming.

“I’m alright, Mate,” she lied, barely getting the words out of her mouth, trying to shoo him out of her room. He refused to leave - the fear of T3’s wrath seemed greater than the fear of Caoimhe’s. But he did settle and quiet down so she could read the headline preloaded onto the datapad.

_Jedi Temple Destroyed in Zakuul Attack: Hundreds of Jedi Dead, Hundreds More Bound in Chains for Zakuulan Emperor._

She didn’t need to read the rest of the article. Well, it didn’t ease the pain any, but it at least explained it. There hadn’t been an event as destructive as this since the Sacking of Coruscant nearly fifteen years prior. Not even the destruction of Ziost had sent her spinning into such a pain-driven haze. Unlike the Imperials, the Jedi had been made to suffer before they died. They watched their temple crumble, watched their children burn, felt every bombardment from the Eternal Fleet. The Imperials on Ziost just disintegrated. No screams of agony, no pain, no drawn-out torture. One second they were there, the next, they were gone.

But she’d felt the Jedi die.

She felt their minds and spaces violated by Zakuulan Knights and skytroopers. She felt their anger, their heartbreak, their grief at watching their brothers and sisters and children die. She felt their fear as the survivors were lined up and bound in chains. She’d felt and borne their emotional, spiritual, and physical pain for the days it took for Zakuul to take the planet.

Unlike Ziost, everyone on Tython was strong in the Force, and the most exceptional Force-sensitives were sent there, to the home of the Jedi Council. She’d visited a few times as a child with her family, but every time they tried to find her a Master to teach her, they’d refused. She didn’t understand it at the time, and didn’t really understand it now either, but she’d figured out it had something to do with the Force Bonds she’d forged with so many.

The same reason she’d been bedridden for the last six days. There was a terrible irony in there somewhere, but her head hurt to think about it.

M8 beeped sadly next to her.

“I don’t know, buddy,” she replied, feeling tears behind her eyes, “I don’t know why Zakuul would do that.”

She let one of her arms drape off the bed and the little droid immediately scooted to it, leaning into her palm gently. Caoimhe rubbed its dome gently and stared back up at the ceiling. There was a jerk at her left shoulder and she winced. So much of her was sore, it was hard to tell what was new and what was just aggravated by her movements, but she had a distinct feeling that someone she’d bonded to was having an awful day.

She imagined any number of people she’d bonded to were having an awful day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge shoutout to Defira (again) for letting me steal the beautiful soul of Ona'la! For those of you who haven't read about Ona'la beforehand, Defira has written a beautiful love story between Ona'la and Thexan, An Empire's Ransom. Cannot recommend it enough!!


	7. The Alliance

_Raelyn,_

_The Alliance meets on Manaan. All of our allies have come together to discuss our next steps, and I am as anxious as I am ready. I have been ready for far too long. Kalina has already put herself in charge, which I suppose is natural for the Barsen’thor. But I am eternally grateful for it; she is a masterful diplomat, capable of herding tooka cats in a rainstorm._

_She’s told me the stories of the time you two worked together on Nar Shaddaa, destroying a slaving ring, both of you young and freshly released into the galaxy. Kalina remembers it all so clearly, the determination in your heart to set things right, the fierceness with which you released your lightsaber on your enemies, the desperate look in your eye as you told her the truth about who you were and who you worked for. I’d heard stories from you, but hearing them from Kalina filled the image. She thinks so highly of you, Raelyn, if I hadn’t seen it myself I wouldn’t be sure such a profound respect was possible between a Jedi and a Sith. But I know how you respected her, as well, and I know your willingness to compromise and meet enemies with a fresh perspective. I still find myself in awe._

_And I am still just as in love with you now as I was the first time we worked together all those years ago._

_Please, if you are reading these somehow, don’t ever doubt my love for you._

_L._

\---

Aelacc awoke with a start, the sounds of war ringing in her ears, the smell of fire and blood and dirt filling her nose, and sweat beading down her back. She brought her hands to her face, willing the images to fade from behind her eyelids. T7 noticed her first, but she shook her head when he beeped at her, and he respected her boundaries and backed up to his original position at the door. She pulled her hands down her face and looked out the window: the sun of Manaan had just begun to rise. The horizon was still grey, but a tiny white light permeated the darkness to the east.

There was a single holocron at the opposite end of the room, and a cushion for meditation before it; Aelacc dragged herself out of her bed and sat, pressing her hands into the malleable fabric and lighting a small stick of incense. It was warm and earthy, relaxing her frazzled nerves enough that she could think straight again. She sat in meditation until she felt the warmth of the sun permeate her room, and then changed into her black robes and made for the kitchen.

Just about everyone in Kalina and Lana’s fledgling alliance had arrived already; with the landing of the Twi’lek High Priestess’ ship a few nights before, they were only waiting on the Queens of Dubrillon and their three daughters before they could begin their planning. The last few weeks had consisted mostly of mingling and introducing each other.

There was Kalina and Felix and their cohort of allies - Nadia Grell, Tharan Cedrax, and Holiday. There were Aelacc’s own friends, Kira and T7. Lana Beniko had been one of the first to arrive with Rimea Politryk - former Cipher Nine and sister to the Wrath - and her husband, Vector Hyllus. The Telosi twins had come with their spies, Theron Shan and Jonas Balkar. Theron offered a weak hello and apology for involving Aelacc on Yavin IV, but she brushed it off, saying she’d have come anyway. Vette and Jaesa Willsaam - former companions of the Wrath herself - had come, dragging a poor Twi’lek named Lek’rume with them, who looked nothing more like he wanted to go back into his cave. He’d already vowed no fewer than four times that he would never open his mouth again ever, and they’d only been there for a week. The Twi’lek High Priestess, Alema’tann, and her wife, former Republic Colonel Toh’laji, had come three nights before along with the children and crechemaster of the Jedi Temple on Tython.

That would be Ona’la, who came with her husband Thexan, the estranged Zakuulan Prince. They were never seen alone, although Thexan often looked utterly exhausted after spending the day with his wife and the fifty or so children who had come with them from Tython. Along with the children of the other Alliance members: Rippir and Alila belonged to Rimea; Rhian belonged to Kalina and Felix; and Aranth’andra’belur, or Thandra as she introduced herself, belonged to Aranth’astre’nemil.

Perhaps most surprising was the addition of the crew of Messalina Piamen, who had abandoned her post on the Dark Council as Darth Nox and dragged Andronikos Revel, Ashara Zavros, and the former Darth Imperius with her. Aranth’astre’nemil was curious for a Sith. For starters, she was a Chiss - her core name was Thastre - and she’d risen to the rank of Darth in an Empire that despised aliens. She’d claimed that it had to do with the Imperial alliance with Csilla, but that story seemed rather unlikely. She was in every way the antithesis to Messalina: stoic, quiet, shy, and excessively kind. It was a wonder she survived so long in an Empire so opposed to her very person.

Was that everyone? She thought it must have been. Her oasis was beginning to feel too crowded as they’d imported cots and sleeping mats and tons of food, squeezing as much as they could in the lower levels. Some folks still slept in their ships every night, but the even the small landing pad attached to her home was cramped for space, and she wondered how the last of their group would even fit. Aelacc had taken to retreating to her bedroom on the top floor when she was particularly overwhelmed, but even that wasn’t enough respite some days.

This morning was blissfully quiet, though. The kids had now decided that their new home was acceptable and most of them were sleeping through the night. Aelacc had gone down to the kitchen more than once in recent memory to find a child trying to climb a counter twice their height to reach the bowl of cookies. She hardly had the willpower to deny them this small request, but there was always panic in her throat when she saw them hanging onto the drawers.

She made a cup of tea in silence, bringing the mug to her face and letting the hot steam hit her nose and cheeks. She breathed in the sweet aromas, and for a moment she could forget about the chaos of the universe.

“Morning,” a gruff voice greeted unhappily from the balcony, interrupting her pleasant daydreams.

Aelacc looked over and joined the Togruta, resting her elbows on the railing overlooking the ocean, “Good morning, Maraalor.”

He frowned, “Hardly call a morning ‘good’. But this one’s alright, I guess.”

She laughed quietly, “Why are you awake so early?”

“Damn boyfriend was snoring all night. Eventually I just gave up.”

Aelacc sipped at her tea, “I didn’t take Theron to be a snorer.”

“He didn’t _used_ to be,” Maraalor replied bitterly.

Aelacc wasn’t sure how to continue after that, so she just stood beside him silently, the two of them drinking in the sunlight as the day brightened and warmed.

“What’s got you up so early, then?” he asked eventually, his eyes a little more open now.

She pursed her lips, “Ah, just nightmares. The usual.”

His eyes met hers, a dark green that got lost in the purples and blues of his skin most of the time.

“How long have you had those?” he asked with concern, and only then did Aelacc remember he was also a prolific Jedi Healer, “How often do they wake you?”

She shrugged, attempting to brush it off, “As long as I can remember, really. They come most nights, but only wake me about half the time.”

Maraalor went to say something, but was distracted by the balcony door opening and the quiet sounds of the Lornacchs coming out to meet them.

“Good morning Aelacc, Maraalor,” Kalina greeted far more cheerfully, little Rhian planted steadily on her hip. Two weeks ago, Aelacc wouldn’t have thought she could actually muster the strength to carry her own body weight as well as that of a growing child, but Maraalor had done something in the privacy of her ship and even just seeing her daughter again seemed to vastly improve her health.

Felix tousled the curly red hair of his sleepy daughter, “Miss Holiday kept you up too late last night, huh?”

Rhian shook her head, but her eyes drooped closed against her mother.

“Well, then I suppose you’re too sleepy to help Daddy with breakfast,” Kalina teased gently, booping her on the nose, which seemed to wake her instantly.

“No, no, I’m awake! I want breakfast!”

Rhian wiggled in her mother’s arms, and Kalina gently placed her on the ground, giving the little girl’s hand to her father, who happily led her back inside.

“What should we make, kiddo?”

“Chocolate pancakes!”

Felix shook his head with a laugh as the door back inside opened for them, “What were they even feeding you on Tython?”

“Well, if the kids are awake, that’s my sign to bail,” Maraalor announced, waving once to each Jedi before retreating inside.

Kalina and Aelacc leaned against the railing quietly for a few moments, listening as their camp woke up and started to buzz quietly. According to Vette, Risha Drayen and her wife would arrive sometime in the late morning, which gave everyone time to wake up on their own and get ready.

“Lana is in the strategy room already, I presume?” Aelacc asked.

Kalina nodded, “I already brought her some caf.”

“How is she?”

“Depends on the day,” Kalina replied with a shrug, “Most of the time she’s focused on planning and gathering intel to distract herself, but I know it’s been hard for her, especially since so many of us have families around.”

Aelacc nodded silently.

“How are you doing?” the Barsen’thor asked, refusing to let Aelacc drop eye contact and avoid the question.

She sighed, having lost this fight every day since Kalina arrived, “I’m alright.”

“That bad, huh?”

The Twi’lek shrugged, “It’s just normal at this point.”

Kalina pursed her lips, “It shouldn’t have to be normal, though, Aelacc. You can get help. We can find another base of operations for this.”

Aelacc shook her head, “No, no, I can’t take the help from people who need it; it’s _my job_ to help them.”

Kalina looked about ready to fight her, but there was a low rumbling of a ship in the distance, the small shuttle of their last companions appearing on the horizon.

“Don’t think we’re done with this just because Noghea showed up,” she warned, “You deserve peace and happiness, too, Aelacc.”

The Twi’lek nodded solemnly, trying to keep her emotions in check while also mentally preparing for the additional guests.

“You can go to the strategy room with Lana and Rimea if you’d like,” Kalina offered, putting out her hand to Aelacc even though she knew she wouldn’t take it, “I’ll meet Risha and Noghea and get everyone assembled.”

As soon as Aelacc gave an affirmative nod, she turned her back and went inside, only to reappear on the landing pad again a few moments later, accompanied by Vette, whose excited shrieks made their way back up to the balcony.

Aelacc drained the rest of her tea in a single sip before she went back inside, taking refuge in the elevator as she climbed to the top floor.

There were two figures in the strategy room when she entered: the golden eyed, blonde-haired, fair skinned Lana Beniko; and the brown eyed, dark haired, dark skinned Rimea Politryk. Rimea was calculating something on a computer in the corner of the room, all but hidden by the shadows. And Lana was making a purposeful stride around the room, presumably one of the many laps she’d taken that morning.

Lana looked up when the door slid open, immediately recognizing her hostess, “Ah, Battlemaster.”

Aelacc cringed at the title, but continued into the room, “Aelacc is just fine, Lana. There’s no need to be so formal.” There was also no need to remind her of her history in waging war when all she’d wanted was peace, but that seemed a little unnecessarily heavy to being the day with.

“Oh, of course, my apologies,” Lana conceded quickly, resuming her path with her hands clasped behind her back.

“I take it the Drayens are here?” Rimea asked, turning around in her seat.

Aelacc nodded, “They just landed. Kalina is meeting them and corralling the others to meet in here.”

Lana stopped and inhaled deeply, “I suppose we should prepare for them, then. Rimea, could you bring up the rendering of Zakuul on the holoprojector?”

“Sure thing.”

Within moments, a translucent 3D image of the planet appeared in the center of the circular table that took up most of the room. The table itself seated about 24 chairs, and there were other stacks of portable seats in the corners of the room should they need them when others arrive. Computers and shelves of datapads lined the walls, and Aelacc thought to herself how little time she really had spent in this room. C2 had clearly taken to cleaning it regularly, though, as there wasn’t a speck of dust to be found.

The door opened again, making Aelacc jump, but the entrant didn’t seem to notice. The pale red Twi’lek entered dressed in about seven layers, looking like he was wearing his entire wardrobe at once, except, oddly enough, for the bare wrappings on his feet.

“Hello all,” he greeted without any enthusiasm at all, “Am I just supposed to pick a seat? Or are they labeled? Or are we playing musical chairs?”

The three women just exchanged glances as Lek’rume sauntered over and placed himself at the far side of the table, not waiting for an answer. He shifted in his seat, bringing his legs up in the chair, sitting cross-legged on them, and he buried himself in his cloak. Cloaks? Was he wearing more than one? It wasn’t _that_ cold in her home, was it?

The door opened again and Aelacc jumped again, this time moving farther into the room, standing next to Rimea at the terminal in the wall. The Telosi Clan all but fell over each other into the room, bickering and laughing. Maraalor looked far less displeased with Theron, who was blushing fiercely. Jonas was tickling Maire, making her squeak and laugh. Already the room’s volume tripled and Aelacc was starting to feel suffocated. But the four of them settled once they found seats they liked.

Within the next few minutes, the other adults on the base had made their way in, the only ones missing being Ona’la and Thexan. Aelacc wondered briefly if they decided to stay with the children, but Kalina ensured everyone that they were on their way. The seats were filled with humans, Togruta, Twi’leks, Chiss, Sith, and Miriala. The lanky rich green-skinned Mirialan Queen of Dubrillon led her wife in dramatically, and started to introduce her as if they were attending a lavish ball, but Risha quickly shut her up by planting a kiss to her lips.

Kalina and Lana stood next to each other, the former reunited with her long wooden staff which she leaned on lightly. The table was round, so technically any seat could have been the head, but their authority alone designated their places as leaders at the head. Aelacc had never been so grateful that she could slip into a corner and watch without the expectation of being a savior with a grand plan to solve everything. Rimea seemed relieved, too, not even rising and joining the others when her husband came in and sat among the others.

The room got noticeably quieter when Ona’la and Thexan entered, the latter looking like he really needed a stiff drink or a full night’s sleep or _something_. As much as they tried not to, all of the eyes in the room trained on the former Prince, searching his pale blue eyes for signs of betrayal. Thexan kept looking to Ona’la, who’d flash him an encouraging smile and then turn her sunny gaze to the rest of the room.

“Alright, now that we’re all here,” Kalina began, capturing the attention of the room and projecting over the last of the conversations, “Lana and I would like to thank you all for hearing us out and joining us. We understand that before you there are many strangers, as well as some enemies. And we would appreciate that you put aside your differences for the good of the galaxy. If we succumb to internal squabbles, we will surely lose the fight to protect those we love.”

She very pointedly had not mentioned Zakuul by name, perhaps for Thexan’s sake, but Aelacc wasn’t sure.

“There is another matter of importance for us all,” Lana continued, taking the metaphorical torch, “Raelyn Politryk, the Sith Emperor’s former Wrath, has been taken prisoner by Emperor Arcann, and she is somehow tied directly to the former Emperor himself. We do not know how they are intertwined, but we know that they are and that it is of utmost importance that she be rescued, as well.”

Noghea started a round of exaggerated gasps, but Risha elbowed her in the gut, smiling primly at the two speakers.

Kalina nodded, “Our plan here is twofold; first, to rescue Raelyn and determine her connection to Vitiate. Second, we must convince Arcann to stop his plundering of our galaxy either with diplomacy or by force.”

“Hey, uh, no offense to the Zakuulans here, but don’t you think we’re a little beyond diplomacy at this point?” Maire chirped.

Thexan stared at his shoes but said nothing, clutching Ona’la’s hand tighter. She whispered something in his ear and he relaxed his grip, but only barely.

“Our plan for dealing with Arcann will come with time, Agent Balkar,” Kalina replied sternly, just a hint of bite to her tone, “For today, we are here to come to a consensus regarding our goals and mission. It will do us no good to form an alliance without a focused objective. If you would like to begin by brainstorming, we can go from there.”

From her seat, Rimea pulled up a blank screen on the holoprojector on the table, and began to type the goals Lana and Kalina had just given, the letters appearing so everyone could see them. Aelacc watched as the others around the table pondered their reasons for being there and what was to become of their Alliance.

Young Lord Willsaam spoke up first, breaking the silence of the room with her deliberate and poised voice, “I believe rescuing Lord Politryk is imperative to our mission. She was the first to encourage me to use my talents to reform the Empire, and I believe she can do the same with Zakuul.”

Rimea typed up a shorthand version of Jaesa’s words, and waited patiently for the next speaker.

Tharan Cedrax put a hand to his chin, but looked to Holiday as he spoke, who had manifested beside him, “The technology of Zakuul far surpasses our own. If we have any hope of driving them out of our corner of the galaxy, we’ll need to study it further.”

“I was on Korriban when they invaded,” Messalina continued, her Imperial accent thick and filled with a barely restrained rage, “we’ll need to study and prepare for their war tactics, as well. Their Knights and skytroopers are unlike Imperial or Republic fighters.”

“I’d like to go home,” Lek’rume interjected, but suddenly seemed to realize he’d actually said the words and his eyes widened when everyone looked at him, “I mean, I-I-I think we should worry about their Star Fortress thingys.” He barely got the words out before he buried himself in his cloaks again, refusing to look at anyone.

Rimea noted “Star Fortresses” on the screen, shaking her head. She continued to make notes as almost everyone at the table made observations, comments, additional requests, and concerns about each other’s ideas. It was going surprisingly well, actually. But Aelacc kept looking to Thexan, who refused to make eye contact with anyone other than his wife and flinched when one of the others mentioned something about violence towards his home or his family. She couldn’t blame him.

They sat around the table for the rest of the day, taking a few breaks for meals and to let them stretch, but otherwise they hashed out their purpose. By the end of the night, Rimea had drafted up a mission statement for their budding alliance, and they all decided to sleep on it before they returned to make any final edits in the morning, when their heads were clear again.

Aelacc thought to herself about how miraculous it was to witness such a gathering, and to watch them all cooperate. Sure, personalities clashed and they disagreed on how to handle some items on the list, but that was to be expected in a group of this size when the stakes were so high. She was sure tensions would rise and had a feeling it would happen sooner rather than later, but she still enjoyed watching them work together, wishing she’d been able to do the same all those years ago.

\---

The monitor crackled before the cries woke Rimea.

“We will tend to her,” the soft, sleepy voice of Vector drew closer as he pressed a kiss to her forehead and rolled gracefully off the bed.

Rimea whined a little as he left her side, rolling over onto her elbow as she rubbed her eyes and reached to turn off the monitor. Their room was dark and she squinted to see what time it was. Far too early for any living being to be awake. But time seemed to be of no consequence to baby Alila. She was mostly sleeping through the nights by this point, but evidently, four in the morning was the time she decided she needed to be awake today. She checked on Rippir’s monitor, but all was quiet in her son’s room, it seemed.

Vector walked back in a few minutes later, but Rimea still had to open her eyes again. He was carrying Alila on his hip with one arm, and held on Rippir with his other hand. She looked at her husband quizzically.

“He was trying to calm her,” he sighed, but there was a hint of pride to his voice.

Rippir clambered onto the bed and snuggled against his mother, “Papa always sings the song of the universe to Alila when she’s upset. I heard her crying, so I went to sing.”

Vector slid into the bed, placing Alila carefully between him and Rimea on the pillows above Rippir; Rimea immediately reached out to embrace her family in a hug.

“We told him the song of universe is too complex to sing at once,” Vector clarified, “But he sang to her anyway.”

“Did it help?” Rimea asked, rubbing her nose against Rippir’s as he giggled.

Alila stretched and wrapped her chubby arms around Vector’s neck, pressing her face against him.

“We would be inclined to think so,” Vector replied, wrapping his arm around Rimea and Rippir.

Rimea smiled in the darkness, “Thank you for helping, my little lovebug.”

Rippir giggled and hugged his mother, but it seemed sleep was not going to take any of them again, as much as Rimea might have hoped. After about ten minutes of the children wiggling and rolling and laughing at each other, Rimea and Vector sat up together and reached to flick the lights on. It was still far too early to begin their morning ablutions, and Rimea checked her datapad for a moment, surprised to see that Lana hadn’t sent her anything during the night. She hoped that meant the former Minister of Intelligence had actually gotten some sleep during the night.

“How does the galaxy fare this morning?” Vector asked even as he pressed kisses into the belly of their daughter, smiling as she laughed.

“The galaxy fares as usual, it would seem,” she replied.

Rippir stood on the bed suddenly, nearly crashing into Rimea’s chin, but she swerved out of his way and put her hands out to steady him, “Do Mama and Papa have more meetings this morning? Do we get to play with Miss Ona’la again?”

Rimea grinned, relieved beyond belief that her son didn’t have the same distrust of others that she’d had. Even before Intelligence had taken her and trained her, she’d been wary of strangers, clinging tightly to Raelyn or Raj whenever someone approached the house. But Rippir seemed to take after his father, delighting in the company of anyone and making friends faster than anyone she’d met.

“You may play with Miss Ona’la today if she would like to play with you. But you have to ask her first.”

“Yay! Can we ask her now?” he asked, holding his mother’s hands in his while he bounced up and down on the bed.

“We have to dress and breakfast first, Rippir,” Vector replied, taking Alila in his arms and stepping off the bed.

Rippir squeaked in delight and took off down the hallway to his room to find clothes for the day. He wasn’t even four and already he’d fired his parents from choosing clothes for him, creating his own mismatching outfits to the delight of Ona’la, especially.

Vector pressed a kiss to Rimea’s cheek and passed the baby off to his wife, “We are claiming the refresher first.”

Rimea feigned a pout, “Is that why you keep volunteering to take care of Alila in the night? So you can steal all the hot water?”

He just smiled innocently, “We have no idea to what you refer, darling.”

She shook her head, bouncing Alila gently.

He reached down to kiss her again, cupping her cheek with his hand, “We love you, Rimea.”

“I love you, too, Vector,” she replied, butterflies in her stomach as if it was the first time he’d kissed her.

She watched him close the door behind him as he went into the small refresher on their ship - she couldn’t bear the thought of taking even more space from their hostess, as gracious and open as she’d been - and sighed happily. As she wandered out into the hallway to the room of her daughter, she pushed aside the vague feelings of discomfort and the sense that she would be separated from her family. It wasn’t something she wanted to dwell on.

She split from Vector once they entered Aelacc’s home, veering into the strategy room as he took their children downstairs where Ona’la had set up her own nursery and playroom for the children. To Rimea’s surprise, Lana was not in the vast space as she had been the eight days prior, but someone else was.

“Theron,” she greeted shortly, “You’re here early.”

He sat at her terminal, typing away like a maniac, “Got a lead on another ally we could use, needed the faster terminal.”

She leaned against the wall beside him, “You tell the others about this ‘ally’?”

He shrugged without looking up at her, “No. Wanted to make sure she was still around first.”

“And is she?”

He nodded, “Think so, just have to bypass her wife’s freaky security system.”

Rimea looked over, surprised to see the text on the screen was in Mando’a, “You’re contacting _Mandalorians_ without asking the others first?”

He stopped suddenly, practically glaring up at her, “I’d appreciate not having the peanut gallery interrupt.”

“Interrupt what, Theron?” the authoritative voice of Lana Beniko seemed to take him off his guard.

He spun his chair around, his eyes wide, “Lana! I was just, uh, just-”

“Spit it out, Theron,” she replied, rubbing her eyes wearily. Maybe she hadn’t slept so well after all.

“I was trying to get ahold of Shae Vizla, see if she wanted to join us. We don’t have an army at our disposal, and could probably use one-”

Lana put out her hand and he stopped abruptly, “You don’t get to be a lone wolf this time, Theron. We’ll discuss recruiting more allies at the meeting this morning, bring up the Mandalorians then.”

Rimea looked from Lana to Theron, trying to get a handle on their relationship. Of course, she’d known about their forged alliance on Manaan, extended time together on Rishi and Yavin IV, and passing again on Ziost. They’d seen a lot of each other considering she was a Sith and he was an SIS agent. Clearly their history complicated their friendship, but it was just as clear that they respected each other tremendously.

Theron stood up promptly, scooping his mug of caf off the desk as he went, “I’ll, uh, see you two later, then. Have fun doing whatever it is you do in here.”

Rimea slid into his seat, noticing how uncomfortably warm it was and wondering how long he’d been there. She brought up her own screens and read the reports from the databases as Lana began her pacing.

This was their routine, for Rimea to research Zakuul while Lana paced the room, occasionally voicing ideas or hypothetical plans. Mostly they were silent, though. Lana would come up behind Rimea and read whatever page she was on before she continued pacing again. She was so fragile, standing on a cliff’s edge at every moment, Rimea never knew what might set her off. But Lana always held firm. And when they’d finished for the morning, she’d thank Rimea for everything she’d done before she put on a brave face and faced the others.

“How are you this morning?” Rimea asked absently, reading a page on Zakuulan carbonite chemistry.

Lana’s footsteps stopped briefly, “It’s a question I would prefer not to think on.”

“You probably ought to,” Rimea reprimanded gently. She’d spent many nights - far too many - breaking down into tears in front of Eckard or Vector or Raina because she’d held in her fears and pain for too long. She hardly wanted Lana to go through the same.

“Your concern is noted, Agent.”

“Lana,” she replied with a sigh, turning in her chair to see the Sith Lord stopped in her tracks, her fingers pressed to the bridge of her nose. Rimea rose from her chair and walked over to her, holding out her hands.

She was surprised when Lana took one of them and squeezed tightly, but she still didn’t say anything.

“You can’t run yourself ragged like this,” she pleaded in practically a whisper.

Lana nodded slowly.

Rimea would have continued, but the door slid open and she swiftly took her hand back and made her way back to the terminal.

“Good morning,” the Barsen’thor greeted gently, “How goes the search?”

“We’re getting closer,” Lana replied, her voice a little shaky.

Kalina didn’t acknowledge it, although Rimea was sure she’d noticed, “Good. We’ll get her back yet.”

“Yes,” Lana all but whispered, but her fierce determination crept back into her tone, “we will.”

“Who’s joining us this morning?” Rimea asked, turning to face the newcomer at last.

Kalina paused, her head moving a little as she counted, “The Telosis and their boys, Aelacc, Vette, Messalina, Alema’tann, Toh’laji and Noghea, I believe.”

“The smuggler is coming?”

Kalina laughed, “Surprisingly, she has a vested interest in this adventure. And from what I hear, she’s got deep connections in the Republic, even if she chooses to spend her time with ruffians and hooligans.”

As soon as she said the words, the Mirialan burst through the door, singing to herself some rock anthem, but the words were unintelligible and the melody even more so.

“ _Let’s do the timewarp again!_ ” She finished with the only five words Rimea actually understood, sliding on her knees with a flourishing air xantha before she feigned a collapse on the floor.

“Good morning, Noghea,” Kalina greeted, sipping her caf as if she hadn’t just witnessed the most ridiculous entrance Rimea had ever seen.

The Mirialan picked herself off the floor and brushed herself off, “Oh, hey guys. Am I the first one here? That _never_ happens.”

Lana looked her up and down dubiously, clearly debating whether she had enough energy to deal with her, “It would appear so.”

“Great! I get to pick the best seat!”

She then proceeded to go around the table, sitting in every single chair, putting her feet up and her arms behind her head, and then get up and move to the next one. Rimea watched her with equal parts confusion, concern, and amusement. She automatically looked for signs that she was being deceitful or planting bugs or being suspicious, but no. This just seemed to be how Noghea was.

Maire, Maraalor, Jonas, and Theron all came in shortly after that; the Telosi twins were absolutely punctual for everything, even if they frequently had to drag their spy boys by the teeth with them.

“Hey, it’s the Queen with the booze!” Maire squealed in delight, apparently referencing some shenanigans that had happened the night before.

“And it’s the Togruta who could hold it!” Noghea replied, showing fingers guns at them with a wink and a cluck of her tongue.

Jonas put a hand to his head and groaned, “Knew I shouldn’t have tried to keep up with them.”

Rimea looked to Lana, who had put on her authoritative Sith facade and looked at them all flatly. Kalina looked at Maraalor, who just shook his head. Theron pointedly avoided eye contact with Rimea, nodding shortly to Lana and Kalina before sitting at the table with the others.

All four Twi’leks walked in together, Alema’tann holding Toh’laji’s arm like usual with Aelacc and Vette on either side of them. Aelacc sent a quick nod to Rimea, who smiled. It seemed their hostess felt well enough to join them at the table this morning, but perhaps that’s because they were smaller in number than they had been yesterday. Vette sat beside Noghea, chatting about Risha and their children and whatnot. Alema’tann looked as dignified and graceful as always, smiling gently while she listened to everyone’s conversation and talked to her wife, who dwarfed everyone else in the room.

Which left Darth Nox as the only outlier. But she, too, came ambling in, clearly unimpressed with being awake at this hour. But thank the stars, she at least was quiet. The noise from the Telosis and Noghea was enough to fill the room.

Kalina cleared her throat, and Rimea took that as a signal to shift over to the table and join the others.

“Good morning everyone, thank yo-”

“Can we please just get this over with?” Jonas moaned, “I have a _very_ comfortable bed and a _very_ painful headache that need to be reunited.”

Maire hit him over the head, “Jonas! Don’t be rude!”

“Ow!” he muttered, putting a hand to the back of his head.

Kalina raised an eyebrow at them, silently asking _Are you two quite done yet?_

“This one’s about recruiting more folks, right?” Noghea asked, feet up on the chair next to her, “Y’all have so many meetings, I can’t keep track of them all.”

Kalina nodded and pushed on her staff a little harder, “Yes, Noghea. You all have connections to the wider galaxy, and we’ll need those connections in the future. If this is going to be a true galactic alliance, a force capable of removing Zakuul, we’ll need far more than the people we have now.”

“Like an army?” Vette asked, tapping the table with her fingers as she thought.

“An army will do. But we also need tacticians, scientists, other specialists.”

Maire raised her hand, “Not an army, per se - well, she’s sort of a one-woman army - at any rate, she’s got connections in the Republic military-”

Maraalor kicked her chair.

“Hey, asshole!” his sister replied indignantly. Rimea shook her head; how on Hoth anything was going to get done with this crowd was beyond her.

Kalina, thank the stars, was infinitely more patient, “Who are you thinking of, Maire?”

“Colonel Aoide,” she replied, “I served with her on Havoc. She’s technically retired now, but her husband is still in the Pub Army, and she pretty much single-handedly got Zakuul out of Iridonia.”

“You think she’d leave her homeworld for this?” Lana asked skeptically, “The Colonel’s forces were successful largely because they were so familiar with the land and so passionate for their cause.”

“Not to mention Arcann hadn’t invented those damn Star Fortresses yet,” Messalina added bitterly.

Maire shrugged, “Far as I know, she joined the army because she wanted to save the galaxy. Now’s her chance. Besides, what’s the worst that happens?”

“She turns us all in and we’re all executed as traitors to the Republic,” Maraalor replied flatly.

“Oh, hush, you,” she argued, waving her hand dismissively, “Aoide would _never_.”

Kalina nodded, “If you’d like to contact her, Maire, please do. Her experience will be invaluable, and she’ll likely trust you more than any of the rest of us. But she is not an army, and against Zakuul’s Knights, we’ll need more than a spec ops leader.”

“Those Knights use the Force, right?” Noghea mused, “My sister’s in charge of the Green Jedi on Corellia-”

“ _What the fuck_ ,” Messalina said under her breath. Rimea had to put her hand to her mouth to keep from laughing.

“-I could totally call her up and see if she wants to kick some Zakuulan ass with us. She probably wouldn’t turn me in to the cops.”

Lana looked at her, “Probably?”

Noghea shrugged, “Ey, you know how it goes with siblings. One minute you’re best friends, the next, you’re worst enemies.”

“Having the Green Jedi would certainly help our chances,” Alema’tann said, “Especially with the Jedi on Tython gone, we could certainly use the help of any other Force users who are left. I might know someone in the Green Jedi who can convince Kyna to join us if Noghea has any trouble.”

“Oh my stars, who do you know in Green Jedi? Is it Draemi? Please tell me it’s Draemi I _adore_ that girl.”

Alema’tann chuckled in her quiet soothing way, “No, no, not Draemi. Her master, actually. Navin Hervoz and I know each other from long ago.”

Noghea definitely attempted to continue the conversation, but Rimea interjected before she had a chance, “And Theron, would you like to contact the Mandalorians? I know you have connections to both Clan Vizla and Clan Cadera.”

He sat up stiffly, “If we could get the Clans on our side, that would certainly give us an advantage. Those guys live for battle. And yeah, I’ve run across a few in my time. I could call them.”

Lana nodded, “Good. We’ll still need specialists, though. Aelacc, do you still have the contact information for that Hutt Doctor who was on Makeb?”

The Twi’lek scratched at her temple, “Oggurobb? Yeah, probably. He is a little insane, but I’ve seen what he can do with isotype-5.”

The former Republic Colonel straightened in her chair, “I have an old friend who’s been essentially disgraced from the Republic Army. He’s a brilliant tactician, but doesn’t have a command of his own anymore.”

Her wife turned to her, squeezing her hand, “Do you think Bey’wan would join us after Bothuwai?”

“I think he’d like the chance to kick Zakuul’s ass.”

Lana nodded shortly, and Rimea could see her shoulders sagging slightly, “Good. Talk to him, see what he is willing to do.”

Kalina also seemed to notice that Lana was fading and brought the meeting to a quick close, “That’s probably a good place to start. Call who you need to, and we’ll reconvene after.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I mention Navin Hervoz and Draemi, both Green Jedi who belong to Defira. Because I can't help myself and maybe if I steal enough of her characters, I'll write as well as she does? (THANKS, DEFIRA)


	8. The Price of Heroism

_Raelyn,_

_While your alliance grows, it seems your friends have taken it upon themselves to “cheer me up”. Vette and Jaesa in particular have spent many afternoons regaling me with tales of your adventures together, big and small. I’ve heard how you and Vette jury-rigged the freezer to spray glitter all over Quinn when he snuck in for ice cream one night. I’ve heard how you and Jaesa sheltered dozens of light-sided Sith acolytes for weeks until suspicion of their allegiances blew over. I’ve heard how you officiated their wedding grandly,and even tried to recite the Twi’leki rituals, even if it so awful the entire audience began to laugh. I’ve heard how you helped Vette be reunited with her friends and family, and helped them all in whatever way you could. And I’ve heard how you gave your forgiveness to Captain Quinn after his betrayal, despite his having done nothing to deserve it. Perhaps you’ll tell that story to me from your perspective some day, seeing as how neither of the girls witnessed the actual event._

_You are and have always been an extraordinary woman, my love. It is perhaps only surprising that I had not fallen in love with you sooner. And while I appreciate the stories your loved ones tell me, they alone cannot fill the place in my heart where you belong._

_All my love,_  
_L._

\---

Even in the darkness, she’d know his footsteps anywhere. She’d also know when he decided to lean against the wall and stare at her for awhile.

“Aric Jorgan, you get your ass in here, or so help me I will file for a divorce.”

He chuckled quietly and dropped his duffel on the floor unceremoniously, sliding into bed behind her and wrapping his arms around her.

“Careful,” she warned, “Trace is by your feet.”

“Don’t tell me they’re all in here with you?”

Aoide laughed and turned over to kiss him, “They all wanted to be awake when Dad came home.”

She wrapped her arms around him and he nuzzled into the crook of her neck. Nine months is a damn long time to be away from your husband. And the next six weeks of leave wouldn’t be nearly long enough to make up for his absence, but it was a start.

There was a yawn from the bottom of the bed where Trace had curled up.

“Is daddy home?” the tiny voice asked, arms reaching for her mother’s legs. Aoide sat up and reached down for the young Cathar girl, bringing her up between them.

She immediately clamped her arms around his neck, too sleepy to wake her three sisters. But it seemed unfair to keep it a secret until it was light out, so both parents sat up - Aric with Trace still around his neck - and they gently prodded the other three girls into waking. The Zabrak girls - Charli and Andi - leapt up and into Aric’s arms, squishing their younger sister in the process, and nearly tackling him off the bed. Little Ava was the last to rouse, but she plopped herself in his lap, her bright green eyes meeting his and Aoide noticed even in the dimness of the early morning just how much she looked like her father.

Ava and Trace had been born from the Cathar genetic diversity surrogacy program four years ago, and both were biologically Aric’s. Charli and Andi had adopted Aoide and Aric upon their return to the Colonel’s homeworld after her retirement. They were eleven and eight now, and full of just as much love and kindness as they were of mischief, and they were teaching their younger sisters their ways of pickpocketing and sweet talking strangers.

What had resulted was a much larger family than Aoide had ever thought she’d have, but she wouldn’t have traded it for anything in the galaxy. Watching her four girls climb and hug and kiss and play-fight with Aric eased her nerves and almost allowed her to forget just how terrible the state of the galaxy was.

Almost.

Zakuul hadn’t made any additional advancements on Iridonia since they’d battled them back a year and a half ago. They seemed content to take the rest of the galaxy with their fucking Fleet and let the planets burn to ash or enslave them. It didn’t sit right with Aoide that they’d just let Iridonia go like that, and it sat even worse knowing she could be helping other planets but had chosen to hang back instead. Not that she was observing passively; she’d been working with the high-ranking military officials in the Republic to strategize and defend against Zakuul. She’d turned down a half dozen offers from General Hervoz - the new Director of SpecOps since Garza’s disgrace - to re-enlist. Her girls were still young, and she still had reservations about joining the Republic military wholeheartedly again. Aric couldn’t bring himself to leave it, despite his distrust of every politician he’d ever met, but Aoide couldn’t leave her family behind. Not when she knew an unfathomable danger could sneak up on them at pretty much any time.

She blinked and focused on her family again. The twin Cathars were sleeping in each other’s arms at the top of the bed now, and the two Zabraks were leaning on either side of Aric, their adrenaline rush at his arrival having petered out. Aric himself looked exhausted, too. His ears and nose twitched still, but his eyes blinked slowly and there was a dark ring around them. Fortunately, they’d long ago bought a bed big enough for all six of them for nights like this, so it was short work to scooch Charli and Andi off their father, and for Aoide and Aric to slide to the unoccupied portion of the bed.

Aoide was considerably larger than her husband, but she slid down the bed so she could rest her head on his shoulder, letting the soothing vibrations from him ease her racing mind and heart while also avoiding impaling him with one of the horns on her head.

“Everything alright?” he asked, rubbing her back with one hand and taking her hand with the other.

She nodded, “Just a lot going on.”

“Mmm,” he hummed knowingly, “a lot going on that we need to talk about?”

“It can wait until later,” she replied, squeezing his hand and relaxing against him. He kissed the top of her head gently and it didn’t take long for them to fall asleep.

It felt like it couldn’t have been more than three hours later when Aoide awoke again, the sun bright in her face, and the rest of the bed empty. She panicked for a moment, but heard the caf maker in the kitchen and the sounds of little feet running around the living room and shook her head at her own paranoia. She sat up and stretched her arms over her head, leaning over to one side and then the other before she stood and made her way to the kitchen in her pajamas.

“Morning,” Aric grumbled. So, they hadn’t been awake long enough for him to actually drink his cup of coffee yet. That was a good sign.

“Morning, Mama!” Andi called, jumping over the back of the couch and wrapping herself around Aoide’s right leg.

“Hey, what did we say about jumping, Miss Andi?” she reprimanded gently, picking her up and booping her on the nose.

Andi scrunched her face up, “That it’s not safe and I shouldn’t do it.”

“And?”

The little Zabrak girl paused before she sighed, “And if Miss Maire caught me doing it, she’d try to do it too and she’d probably break something.”

Aric snorted into his mug.

“Absolutely,” Aoide replied with a grin, “Why don’t you and your sisters play outside for a bit while your dad and I make breakfast?”

The girl nodded vehemently and wiggled the entire time Aoide lowered her to the ground before she sprinted through the house to gather her sisters.

Aric handed her a mug of black caf and sipped his own slowly, leaning against the counter. Aoide followed suit, pressing her hip against his and wrapping her hands around her mug while they looked out the back door and watched their daughters run around the yard.

“You heard from Maire lately?” he asked quietly. Since Aoide had left Havoc, he’d been promoted to its commander, but Saresh had all but disbanded its original crew, sending Forex to the front lines, Elara behind a desk as little more than a secretary, Yuun back to Hoth for reassignment, and Maire back to SIS. Aric had had to rebuild his squad essentially from scratch.

Aoide’s heart beat a little faster, “Yeah, actually.”

“How’s SIS treating her?”

She paused, “I don’t really know. We didn’t talk about the SIS.”

His ears flicked, “What _did_ you talk about?”

Aoide sighed and closed her eyes before she took his hand and sat him down at the small kitchen table, taking the chair beside him.

“What’s going on?” he asked cautiously, eyes narrowing slightly.

“Maire didn’t call me to catch up,” she admitted, refusing to look away from his eyes, “She called to ask me if I wanted to join an inter-faction alliance being created to bring down Zakuul.”

Aric just looked at her, still holding her hand. He knew better than to jump to conclusions.

“It’s being led by the Barsen’thor and the former Minister of Sith Intelligence, and I guess they’re recruiting from all corners of the galaxy. Maire thought I’d be someone good for them.”

“Wasn’t that Sith Lord part of the alliance that killed Revan on Yavin IV?”

Aoide swallowed and nodded, “Don’t think I’d trust any other Sith to really mean what they say. But Maire trusts her. Says Jonas trusts her, too. And if the Barsen’thor is on board, that has to mean something, doesn’t it?”

Aric nodded, “Doubt Saresh will see it as anything more than a vigilante group.”

“Probably. I could try to work for both, but I doubt that would last long.”

He paused, “They inviting just you?”

Aoide shook her head, “Maire said we could all go. Made a joke about Major Grumpy Pants being a useful voice of wisdom.”

Aric let out a guffaw, although it didn’t sound like he found much humor in it, “How long would we be gone? Is it something I could do during leave?”

She wasn’t a crier. The last time she’d cried had been when Sergeant Ava Jaxo - the namesake of her youngest - was killed. And that was a long time ago. But she felt the tears in the back of her eyes as she closed them and shook her head silently.

Aric sighed, “So you’d need me to resign. Or go AWOL.”

“This is why I needed to talk to you before I told Maire anything,” Aoide admitted, feeling more vulnerable now than she felt when she was a raw recruit, standing under Aric’s scrutiny for the first time.

He squeezed her hand and she looked back into his eyes, but he didn’t say anything. He rubbed the back of her hand with his thumb, put his caf on the table, and brought his other hand to the bridge of his nose.

“What should we do? You’re my _husband_ , I can’t leave you behind.”

“Will they have space for the kids?” he asked, almost seeming like he’d come to a decision.

Aoide nodded, “Maire said there were a bunch of kids there already, and room for more.”

Aric took a deep breath, “Then go. Take the girls with you.”

“Aric-”

“Don’t. You know as well as I that I can’t defect. I may hate the bureaucracy and the politicians, but my place is and will always be in the army,” he paused, and Aoide noticed his nose twitching and his ears flattening, “But you... you need to save the galaxy. And if this Alliance is the way to do it, then do it. Someone needs to save our skins. So long as the girls are safe, that’s all that matters.”

She put down the lukewarm cup of caf and wrapped her arms around him, equally heartbroken and elated. This was her chance to change the course of this war against Zakuul. A chance to work with like-minded people. A chance to do what she’d dreamed of doing since she was a kid, lugging around an assault cannon that was twice as tall as she was through the forests of Iridonia. But she had to do it without the man who meant the most to her. Aric had been by her side through everything in the last five years. They’d seen highs and lows, they’d seen each other wounded (and on one occasion, dying), they’d seen each other disillusioned, they’d seen each other through _everything_. The decision to get married wasn’t taken lightly by either of them, but it was also the most natural one to make. And now they had to split for who knows how long.

Aric breathed against her neck, not actually crying, but definitely upset.

“Are you sure about this?” she asked him quietly.

“Positive,” he replied, adding with a smirk, “But you don’t get to leave for this alliance before my leave is up.”

\---

“Mando’ade! We shall stand as one against the tyranny and cowardice of Zakuul’s Eternal Empire! They hide behind soulless machines and space wizards who have the apathy of the Jedi and the cruelty of the Sith! They are spineless Demagolk’e who plunder and pillage without any of the glory and honor of true battle! Zakuul has began the march on the Heartworlds, and we cannot stand idly by and watch them destroy our ancestral homes. Mandalore is not a place, it is a people. But all the same, we have a duty to preserve our people’s history and protect them from Zakuul’s armies. I am calling you today not only as Mand’alor, but also as gar vod. I am calling you, the Clans, to join me on Mandalore in three fortnights’ time to beat back the armies and fleets of the Eternal Empire! I am calling all Mandalorians to arms, _to arms, to arms_!”

The stadium was filled with her brethren, and everyone single one of them joined in chanting “to arms” with Mandalore the Vindicated, throwing their armored fists in the air, some of them jumping out of their seats. Staceasa looked around her, one hand firmly on Torian’s forearm; every member of every clan on Rishi had joined them. Clan Vizla was most prominent, but Clan Beroya was there, Clan Farr was there, bits of Clan Ordo were there, and of course, the tiny Clan Cadera contingency sat among them, as well. There was a giant holoprojection of Artus Lok in the center of the stadium, his voice ringing clearly through the speakers around the room, echoing so much it was almost unintelligible.

Akaavi leaned in beside her, “So he’s really calling the Clans. Zakuul will wish they’d never invaded Mandalorian space.”

Staceasa could barely hear her, but caught enough to nod in response. There were only a few thousand Mandalorians in the room, but it sounded more like a few _hundred_ thousand. How Shae managed to build a stadium with acoustics like this was beyond her. Cheers made their way around the stadium, the air filled with electricity (quite literally from the Force-sensitive Alor of Clan Farr) and adrenaline, the thought of glorious battle against a mighty foe firing up the blood of every warrior in the room.

Staceasa felt a little sick.

Yes, she was a warrior. Yes, she was Mandalorian through and through. Yes, she longed to bring honor and glory back to a galaxy that had known subterfusion for too long. She wasn’t a pacifist like Ysaine (who had jumped at the offer to take Nellie for the afternoon). She wasn’t afraid to die on the battlefield to a worthy foe. And she wasn’t afraid of the crowd before her. But it still made her uneasy these days when they all seemed so… _bloodthirsty_.

But she played the part, telling herself the knots in her gut were just her nerves playing tricks on her because she was so exhausted from chasing a two year old around all the time.

They filed out of the stadium about half an hour later, Clan Cadera all walking together with Staceasa beside them. It wasn’t like there was a large Clan Lok contingency on Rishi anyway.

“Meet tomorrow morning to discuss logistics,” Torian declared, every ounce of him the leader of his clan, “Get some rest tonight.”

The sunset on Rishi was distorted by the heat in the air, the reds and oranges dulled to pinks and yellows. The remaining sunlight bounced off the metal roofs of their homes, reflecting the light back into the sky in rows of colors. The animals all chirped and brayed as the light died, swarms of bugs beginning to emerge from the edges of the forests. Most of the shops were closing for the night, lights slowing turning out and shutters being closed down the street as the little pirate village briefly halted while it was cool enough to sleep. Staceasa wondered what time it would have been on the other planets the rest of the Clans were on.

Torian wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pressed a kiss to the side of her head, “Everything alright, cyare?”

She nodded and leaned against him, “I’m fine, Torian.”

He opened the door to their house, allowing her to go in first so he could wrap his arms around her from behind and kiss her from her shoulder up her neck to her ear, gnawing on it gently. She laughed and turned around in his arms, all her discomforts from earlier bleeding away in an instant.

“Hey, I’ve already got one little one who thinks my ears are delicious,” she argued, “I don’t need you eating them, too, cyare.”

“Hey! Lovebirds!” Ysaine’s voice bellowed through the house, “Come get your kid!”

Staceasa pressed a quick kiss to his lips and took him by the hand into their living space to find Nellie up on Ysaine’s shoulders, chewing absently on her hair.

Torian immediately reached for her, “Nel, we talked about this.”

“Can’t reason with a two-year-old, Torian,” Ysaine replied, getting to her feet and smoothing her hair back down the middle.

He plopped his daughter on his shoulders with a shrug, holding her by the feet and letting her immediately begin chewing on his hair.

“So, Artus is calling the Clans, huh?” Ysaine commented blandly.

Staceasa nodded, “We’re all headed to Mandalore. Think Shae will make you pick up a blaster and fight with us?”

Ysaine laughed, the rich sound vibrating through Staceasa’s entire body, “Oh, I’ll go. But someone among the lot of you needs to be a medic.”

The holoterminal beeped, interrupting whatever argument was on the tip of Torian’s tongue.

Ysaine bowed and made for the door, “That sounds like my cue to leave. Thank you for the lovely evening with your Nellie. I think she likes me now. Took her long enough.”

Staceasa nodded in thanks and reached down to answer the holoterminal - Torian was already three-quarters of the way to Nellie’s bedroom to put her to bed, so he didn’t see the look on her face when she saw the caller.

“Theron motherfucking Shan,” she said icily, “I thought I made myself clear that I wasn’t doing another ‘job’ for you.”

He laughed nervously, running a hand through his fauxhawk, “Heh, come on, Ziost wasn’t that bad.”

“That bad? _That bad_!? The entire planet was magically turned to dust! What the hell do you mean, ‘wasn’t that bad’!?”

Theron shrugged, “If you wanted to-”

“Nope, no, nuh-uh, no way,” Staceasa interrupted, half of her brain screaming at her to just disconnect the damn call, “I am not doing anything with you. You’re a walking time bomb, and I refuse to get caught in the blast.”

“This is different! It’s not even mine!”

She narrowed her eyes at him, “You have fifteen seconds to give me something worth responding to before I turn this holoterminal off, Shan.”

“Then I better talk fast,” he replied, not bothering to acknowledge that Staceasa looked to her chrono, “I’m working with a group of people from across the galaxy, and we are going to destroy Zakuul, but we need all the help we can get: Republic, Imperial, Jedi, Sith, whatever. And the Mandalorians are just the type of people we need, and did I mention the fate of the galaxy was at stake?”

Staceasa held up her hand, “Theron. Do you seriously think the Mandalorians aren’t going to fight Zakuul on our own?”

“I don’t doubt that for a second, doesn’t mean you can’t use help from my people.”

She blinked once at him slowly, “I’m not helping you and your crazy cult, Shan.”

Torian poked his head out of Nellie’s room, “Gault might do it.”

“Gault?” Theron asked.

“Gault Rennow,” Staceasa explained tiredly, “He’s a thief, a liar, a scoundrel, and a smuggler. Unfortunately, good at his job and has about a billion connections. You might have better luck if you try his girlfriend, though. Hylo Visz is a bit more philanthropic.”

Theron scribbled the names furiously onto a datapad.

“Anyone else who might want to join my ‘crazy cult’?”

Staceasa put her hand to her chin, “It’s a long shot, but there’s a Voss Mystic, Sana-Rae. I talked to her once and she’s got some wacky visions as far as I can tell. Filled with Outsiders and whatnot. She might have something to say to you.”

“Sana-Rae, got it,” Theron said, “Well, I assume Shae Vizla will be even less open to my offer?”

Staceasa nodded, “Probably.”

He sighed, “Well, thanks for the intel, at least. You know how to get me if you change your mind.”

“And you know how to delete my number forever. Goodbye, Theron.”

She flicked off the holoterminal unceremoniously and sighed. As if witnessing the destruction of Ziost the first time wasn’t disturbing enough. Fucking Shan. Who in the nine icy hells did he think he was? Calling her up again like they were old pals. Fuck that guy.

Torian gently pulled her hand from her face and kissed it, having apparently emerged from Nellie’s room. She rested her head on his chest and closed her eyes. The galaxy was a fucking nightmare, but at least she had him.

\---

Koth Vortena was the prettiest man he’d ever laid eyes on.

His jaw all but dropped when he exited his ship, arms laden with supplies, to see the former Zakuulan captain pacing nervously. His eyes were a beautiful clear brown, rich and deep and filled with emotion. His nose was wide and a little crooked; his eyebrows were full and dark and expressive; and his skin was smooth and the color of Alderaanian mountains in summer, only slightly paler than his own. Raj had to keep himself from looking at his lips because he knew once he looked at them, it was all over. He looked instead to the goggles that pushed his dark hair back from his eyes, the tight coils sticking out in all kinds of directions.

“Captain Vortena?” he called as he descended, putting on the gruffest voice he could.

“Captain Politryk,” Koth replied, jogging up the ramp to take the box from Raj’s hands. They touched briefly and both of them recoiled almost violently.

Raj turned back into his ship and grabbed another box, slipping back into his normal tone, “Can’t say I ever expected work from a Zakuulan. You really in that deep you need a Republic smuggler, huh?”

Koth laughed nervously and thank the stars Raj’s back was still turned to him, “Something like that. Arcann doesn’t like it much when you choose the safety of his people over the orders of his commanders.”

Raj hauled another box out of the ship with a grunt, “Ah, so you’re doing penance.”

Koth shrugged, “Probably.”

“Where’re we headed with these?” Raj asked, the size of the box forcing him to look to the side where the Zakuulan captain walked beside him.

Koth gestured in front of them, “Just up there. There’s a little camp hidden in the swamp a half click from here, but I got a speeder just ahead we can drop these off at.”

Raj nodded, desperately looking at anything other than his lips. His dirt-caked boots, his mud-stained cargo pants, the chain around his neck, his biceps… He shook his head and stared at the box in front of him instead. It was just a _job_ , for fuck’s sake. Delivering supplies to refugees. On some backwater swamp world that also happened to want to take over the galaxy. It meant nothing, he was just getting paid and leaving and wouldn’t ever see the Zakuulan captain again. What was he getting so worked up about? He’d done plenty of jobs for pretty people; he’d turned up the charm and swindled them out of a few more credits before dropping them off in the hands of the person who actually deserved them, and then he left without a trace. So why was he nervous now? Why was he biting his lips and avoiding the eyes of this man?

Fortunately, Koth was right about the speeder, and he dropped the box onto its flatbed a few moments later.

“Would you, ah, like to come with?” Koth asked, suddenly refusing to look at him.

_Don’t do it, Politryk._

“I’d be delighted.”

_Goddamnit, Raj! What is the matter with you!?_

He hopped behind Koth, determined not to wrap his arms around him, but as soon as he pressed on the gas and they went lurching forward, Raj’s face pressed against his back and his arms instinctively held on. He felt the other man shiver and tried to keep himself from doing the same. The swamp was muggy as hell, but that didn’t seem to mean anything when you’re all but hugging the most beautiful man you’ve ever met. Who also happened to be looking out for a group of refugees.

Fortunately, the journey took all of five minutes, and they quickly dismounted without a word. Raj surveyed the scene before him, the little camp hidden in the deep swamps of Zakuul. From Koth’s message, they’d all been exiled here as punishment for questioning Arcann. There were probably about fifty in this settlement, if their makeshift huts and little firepits could be called that. Raj wondered how they even got power. They were all streaked with mud or dirt, clearly trying to keep their normal routines, but the landscape made it impossible to stay clean for long. Even Raj had dirt on his boots and the bottom of his jacket, and he’d only been here for fifteen minutes.

Something rustled in the trees just outside the clearing and Koth visibly stiffened, hand on his blaster rifle. Everyone else in the camp reacted similarly, mothers herding their children inside, the able-bodied rest straightening and facing the noise. Raj reached for his own pair of twin blasters, watching the trees.

A single white human-looking droid emerged from the brush, scanning the area vigilantly with its beady red eyes. Koth aimed quickly and fired, the blast passing through the droid’s head. It slumped to the ground and a half dozen others were there stripping it of parts and communicators in seconds.

“That’s the third scout we’ve seen this week,” he explained cautiously, rifle still at the ready, “Won’t be long before we have to pack up and move again.”

“I’m a pretty good shot, you want me to go around and do a perimeter check? Make sure there aren’t more of those things?”

Koth looked at him, “I can’t pay you for-”

Raj dismissed him with a wave of his hand, “Nonsense. Don’t need to pay me for doing the right thing, Koth. Just watch my back, alright?”

He swallowed and nodded, “Sure thing.”

Both of them ventured out into the swamps surrounding the campsite, heading in the direction the dead skytrooper came from. The trees loomed over them, casting shadows that shifted with the breeze and Raj caught Koth jumping at a couple of the stronger wind gusts. A few animals brayed, but otherwise the swamp was quiet. Quieter than Raj thought a swamp of this size would be, actually. But there were no skytroopers. It didn’t take long for Koth to take the lead on the sweep around the camp. So Raj followed him diligently, blasters in his hands as he stepped over fallen logs and around deep mud patches. Eventually, about a click from the campsite, they came into a clearing.

In front of them was a ship. Sunk into the mud, rusted, and taken by the swamp, but definitely a ship. It was larger than Raj’s shuttle, but smaller than one of Zakuul’s fleet ships. It was wonderfully symmetrical from where he saw it, but one end dipped into the mud significantly further than the other, which made him think there was something of weight on that end. It wasn’t the most beautiful ship Raj had ever seen of its size, but scrape off the vines and the moss and the rust and it might be a contender.

“Is that…?” Koth asked, trailing off before he made a break for it.

“Hey!” Raj called after him, sliding down the hill trying not to fall on his face.

Koth touched the ship with one hand reverently, “The Gravestone. So the legends are true.”

Raj looked it up and down, having no idea what a Gravestone was or why it was important in this moment. But it evidently held quite a deal of significance to Koth, who sank to his knees with tears in his eyes.

“I can’t believe it’s been here the whole time,” he uttered with equal parts awe and disbelief, “It’s been this close to the camp and I never saw it.”

Raj crouched beside him, hesitantly putting a hand to his shoulder, “You alright?”

Koth turned to him and nodded, “It’s the Gravestone. The only ship in the history of Zakuul to take on the Eternal Fleet and win.”

“The whole Fleet?” Raj asked, looking up through the branches for the protectors of Zakuul’s skies. He’d snuck through the Zakuulan barricade to get down here, pulling every trick he knew just to go through undetected; he couldn’t imagine actually fighting them all. Certainly not with any chance of winning.

Koth just nodded, reaching out and touching it again, “Before Valkorion was Emperor, it disappeared suddenly, nobody knew where. But it’s been here the whole time.”

“You reckon the inside is as nice as the outside?”

Raj offered his hand to Koth, who took it with stars in his eyes, pulling himself to his feet. Surprisingly, Koth didn’t let go of his hand, instead dragging him inside the ship, zigging and zagging around the hallways like he knew it all by heart. The lights sparked on as they entered each area, which Raj took as a good sign that it might actually be flyable someday. Not that he was going to stick around and fix up a rusty old legend like this. But it’d be pretty cool if someone else could.

Koth finally let go in the engine room, running up to the diagnostic terminal to run a series of checks. It turned on as he stood in front of it, whirring and blinking.

“Hey, captain-” he said without looking over.

“Please, just call me Raj,” he corrected.

Koth grinned a little, “Raj, can you get up to the bridge and fire her up? Diagnostics are running, but I need the bridge controls powered on to see the whole picture. Should be all the way down the hallway.”

“Sure thing,” Raj agreed, turning on his heel and meandering back into the belly of the ship, wondering how Koth knew a ship so well which had been down in the swamp for centuries. But he was distracted when he ran into the wall as it curved. The light hadn’t turned back on, didn’t even spark as he walked through the dark hallway.

“Hey! That’s rude!” he called to the ship.

Koth’s head appeared from the brightness of the engine room, “What?”

“Not you,” Raj retracted, but the lights flickered on again. What in the fuck was this ship?

He wandered up to the bridge, the ship apparently having accepted him and turning on the lights as he went. He entered the bridge slowly, watching the lights to the consoles flicker on as he passed his hand over them. Was that supposed to happen? He had no idea. It all seemed pretty intuitive, though, other than the weird hand thing. The controls were in Zakuulan, but he knew enough of the language to figure out what most everything was. The screen in front of the pilot’s seat flashed a big green “Hello” in Basic, though, and Raj leaped back with a squeak, crashing into the console and pressing a half dozen buttons with his ass.

“That great!” Koth’s voice echoed distantly from down the hall, “You can come back! I-if you want to! Or you can take your time! Whatever!”

Dammit, he was cute on the inside, too.

He practically dove out of the cockpit and dashed for the engine room, the lights keeping up with him easily, illuminating the hallways brightly. Looking behind him as he sprinted into the engine room, he didn’t stop in time to keep from crashing into Koth chest-first and they almost went crashing to the ground.

“Whoa there!” Koth said, reaching up a little to take Raj’s arms in his hand and hold him steady as he got his feet beneath him again.

He tried not to think about how hot his cheeks were, “Sorry.”

Koth pulled his hands back, lingering a little too long before he went back to the diagnostic tests, “You alright?”

Raj nodded, wiping his hands on his pants and brushing off the dust, “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.”

The other man nodded, “The Gravestone is in miraculous condition considering it’s been sitting here for centuries. Definitely need some parts to get her up and running again, but she’ll fly.”

“What kind of parts?”

There was a distant popping sound from outside the ship. Both men looked at each other, fear in their eyes.

“Skytroopers,” Koth muttered, “ _Shit_ , the camp.”

He made a mad dash back into the swamp, Raj right behind him. The latter made a quick note of their location on his datapad before he left, watching the lights power down as they exited.

Koth already had his rifle in front of him, taking quick aim as they came up behind the patrol of skytroopers in the camp. The Zakuulans were running in every direction, but the skytroopers were pulling down their huts and outnumbering them four to one. That was not great. Raj rolled up to a boulder to use for cover, taking out as many skytroopers as he could from his position, but Koth ran right into the thick of it. He swung his rifle around wildly, taking out anything that wasn’t organic, and anything that got too close he just straight up whacked it with the butt-end of his gun. It was mesmerizing to watch, if Raj was being honest. On the outer edge of the camp there was an explosion - presumably, one of the skytroopers had triggered one of their traps. But their position was completely blown now. Only thing to do was shoot as well as you could and run as fast as you could.

Raj whistled loudly through his fingers, “Everyone follow me!”

He leaped through the camp over the debris and the half dozen corpses, desperately keeping himself from looking in their eyes. He turned around at some point and saw a couple dozen Zakuulans closely behind him, Koth almost out of sight at the rear. The skytroopers did not move through the swamp as quickly as they did, but the damn things were still following them doggedly. Damn droids didn’t have any sense of self-preservation and kept trailing them.

Raj opened the door to his ship, shuffling the refugees up the ramp and inside, keeping an eye on the forest behind them. He took a few shots at the frontrunning skytroopers, taking the head off one who was just about ready to aim for Koth.

The captain clapped his hand to Raj’s shoulder in a silent thanks as he entered the ship, both men sliding into the pilot chairs smoothly. Raj hadn’t had a copilot since Guss went off to find himself, but it was surprisingly easy to pilot with Koth. They worked in tandem, and it didn’t take long before they were in the air, speeding through the atmosphere and making a break for the safety of hyperspace.

Koth leaned back in his chair tiredly, “You didn’t have to do that.”

Raj shrugged, “Wasn’t about to let you all die. Not when I worked so hard to smuggle you supplies.”

The other man chuckled, “Can’t believe we had to leave the Gravestone behind. It’ll be another thousand years before someone digs it up again.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Raj replied with a smirk, standing and typing in a string of numbers to the holoterminal behind them.

“Heeey, Raj! Long time no see, babe!” the thick accent of Noghea Corripere filled the cabin, and he could hear Koth turning around in his seat.

“Noghea, a pleasure as always,” he replied with an exaggerated bow, “Or should I call you Your Majesty? Heard you and Risha officially got hitched few years back.”

The Mirialan laughed and slapped her knee, “It was about damn time, don’tchya think?”

“Absolutely,” Raj agreed, “Speaking of your wife, you two have an itch to fix up something big?”

“Oh, Raj, don’t play with my heart strings like this.”

He put up his hands, “Before you get all wheezy on me, I promise I’ll find and send you the parts it needs. I just need you and your darling wife to actually fix up the thing.”

She raised an eyebrow suspiciously, her voice suddenly serious, “Alright… What am I looking at, Cap’n?”

“The Gravestone. Legendary Zakuulan ship that beat up the entire Eternal Fleet hundreds of years ago.”

Noghea scrunched up her nose, “Really? Hundreds of years and it’s not just a pile of junk?”

Koth leaped to his feet, “A pile of junk!? Do you even know what the Gravestone _is_!?”

Noghea blinked, amused, “Who’s this guy?”

Raj motioned to him, “Koth Vortena, formerly of the Zakuulan military. Now a good-for-nothing scoundrel like the rest of us. Koth, meet Noghea Corripere, once my partner-in-crime and now one of the ruling queens of Dubrillion.”

“Nice to meet ya, Koth,” Noghea said with a nod, “Risha and I are a little tied up as of present with some alliance that’s gonna save the galaxy or somethin’, but I imagine we can be out there in a month or two. You got the coordinates?”

“Sent them to you already.”

“Ain’t bad, Politryk. I’ll let ya know when Risha and me can get there and take a look at it. Meantime, don’t get yourselves killed.”

She disappeared from view, and Raj turned to Koth, who just stood with his mouth agape, big brown eyes glazed over.

Raj smiled and nudged him, “Thought you might need a hand putting your ship back together.”

Koth looked up at him slightly, “I… you didn’t have to do that.”

“Course I did. You’ve probably got the purest heart of anyone I’ve ever taken a job for. I’m not gonna squash that. Ghea loves a good challenge, and besides, I’ve got a feeling we’re going to be spending a lot of time together,” he winked, “Might as well start getting on your good side early.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The ever-delightful Ysaine Pierce, as usual, belongs to the ever-wonderful Defira, as does General Ellaz Hervoz! Defira is an absolute delight with the most fun characters and I am forever eternally grateful that she lets me borrow them.


	9. Love and Grief

_Raelyn,_

_Some days I feel almost normal. Others I want to all but collapse under the pressure of this whole adventure. I wish you were here. Kalina is wonderful, but I cannot ask her to bear my grief as well as her own. Besides, she has the luxury of going home to Felix and Rhian every night, of being surrounded by those who love her. I have no one. Rimea is lovely, but she keeps to herself, and she keeps her distance. Maraalor and Theron still side-eye me most days, and I am never quite sure if Theron has forgiven me for what happened on Rishi. Messalina and Thastre still don’t quite know how to address me, and even though they are the only other Sith here, I feel no particular connection to them._

_Still, I have Kalina. And a group of people who are committed to destroying Zakuul and bringing you home safely. And that is not nothing. They keep me grounded in the task at hand, give me a goal and a place to belong. Even the smuggler and her wife have sat with me at a meal and made normal conversation._

_We have been here for weeks trying to put together a plan. We’ve gathered more allies, and the Green Jedi are supposedly on their way. All that remains is a crew to rescue you._

_I’ll be the first to volunteer._

_With all my love, as always,_  
_L._

\---

The arrival of Aoide and Kyna Corripere had the Manaan base abuzz. The decorated Republic war hero and the leader of the Green Jedi on Corellia were big names for their still fledgling alliance. Aoide was imposing in every sense of the word. She was taller than everyone there, had rippling muscles that were visible even under layers of clothing, spoke brusquely and with the confidence of a veteran leader. Kyna, on the other hand, was outgoing and bubbly in a calming way, ready to put at ease anyone who looked even vaguely uncomfortable. Both of them were middle-aged, older than most of the others gathered, and brought along a trail of children (though perhaps Kyna’s trail was far more linear than Aoide’s). Aoide came on a mission, immediately looking for as much information as she could on where they were at and what they were intending to do. Kyna began by meeting everyone, meandering her way around the base to make sure she touched base with everyone, and though her smile was gentle and sincere, she was clearly gathering information on the personalities around her. Kalina realized early on that Kyna was a talented diplomat in her own right, unafraid to bare sharp teeth under that sunny grin. She didn’t become Master of the Green Jedi for her battlefield heroics alone, it seemed.

But both had been adding vital information on Zakuul and the state of the Republic. Aoide had given them full details on the Zakuul invasion of Iridonia, with Thexan beside her agreeing and cautiously adding in his own knowledge; and Kyna described the sense of unease in the Corellian capital as Zakuulan fleet ships passed overhead, not yet attacking but certainly a threat while their ambassadors met on Coruscant with Saresh and the Senate. News filtered through to her quickly through her contacts in the government - Noghea had snorted and remarked on her turn of phrase - that Saresh was still focused on the Sith Empire, and that Zakuul was seen as an imminent threat, but a temporary one. So word was that the Republic would bow to Zakuul, plan to pay them tribute for three years at most, and go right back to planning annihilation of the Sith.

But even with her strength rejuvenated and her little family reunited, Kalina leaned against her staff while she looked out over the Manaan oceans. Things were coming together, certainly; they’d recruited a half dozen more allies, they’d created a plan to infiltrate Zakuul’s underworld, even Noghea somehow managed to serendipitously find some sort of mythical ship in Zakuul’s swamps. At the same time, though, old rivalries were bubbling over, patiences were wearing thin, and grumbles were heard around the base. Kalina spent more of her time playing diplomat with supposed allies than she did strategist against a galactic enemy.

She watched the sunset, feeling the waning warmth of Manaan’s sun on her face and the sea breeze against her cheeks. Reds and pinks and purples streaked the sky, reflecting off the clouds and the shimmering water.

“It’s a beautiful night, isn’t it?” an all-too familiar voice remarked beside her.

Kalina smiled gently, “It must have known you were coming, dear Lieca.”

She could feel the other Jedi blushing even without looking at her, so she leaned her staff against the railing and turned to embrace her long-time friend. Lieca Amell, now the Jedi Emissary to the Rift Alliance and overseer of the Balmorran Arms Factories, hugged Kalina tightly, nearly picking her up where she stood.

“Where’d you leave Tai and the kids?” Kalina asked as they separated, and Lieca’s bright blue eyes shone brilliantly in the sunlight. It was not a mystery or secret that Lieca’s diplomatic prowess owed much to her soft features, gentle voice, and endless patience. She could frown sadly at a Mandalorian and they’d put down their weapons immediately.

She smiled broadly, “Oh, they’re unpacking in one of the guest rooms, but we ran into Felix on our way in, and he said you’d be up here, so of course this was my first stop.”

“Being stuck in an enclosed space with all of them was too much for you, huh?” Kalina replied dryly, picking up her staff again.

Lieca laughed softly, “Of course not. Though, I will admit, spending some time in the quiet does have its appeal.”

“Well, enjoy it while you can,” Kalina advised with a sigh, “once the sun sets, the alcohol comes out, and when it rises again, there’s arguing to be done.”

“Mmm,” Lieca hummed, “Do you need someone to lighten your load? Get them to play nice?”

The red-headed Jedi laughed, “I didn’t ask you to be here to babysit them.”

“Oh, I know,” Lieca replied with a dismissive wave of her hand, “Our connections to the arms factories and Rift Alliance would greater bolster this endeavor of yours. But all the same, I’m here to help any way that I can.”

Kalina smiled, “Thank you, Lieca. I appreciate that.”

The other Jedi nodded and put a reassuring hand to the Barsen’thor’s shoulder, sending healing and calming energies through her palm. Kalina closed her eyes and smiled - long ago, back when they were still Padawans, Lieca had tried to teach both Kalina and Aelacc how to use healing energies. Her results were mixed, but Kalina thought on those days fondly, when the three of them would stay up far past their bedtime reading datapads and consulting holocrons on how to treat various injuries. Lieca would send them to the library to read treatises or testimonies, and then they’d go back to her to demonstrate their learning on dummies or holographic patients.

“Hmm, I think I can sense little Angela crying,” Lieca sighed, still smiling, “Shall we head back inside?”

Kalina nodded, “You go in and help your family, I’ll meet you all in the dining room in a little while.”

They hugged again before Lieca entered the base, leaving Kalina alone once more as the sun dipped below the horizon. She rested her forehead against the top of her staff with a sigh; the anxiety and tension of the base bled through its walls, pressing against her head.

Inside the base, there was a low buzz, an audible humming from the sheer amount of people inside. What had previously been Aelacc’s kitchen and living space had turned into a dining hall, a large open cantina where most folks gathered after the work of the day had been done. Folks sat at the bar or around tables, gossiping and eating and drinking. Noghea had turned one of the corners of the dining room into nothing short of a casino, and she sat at a table with her feet propped on it, cards in her hands. Messalina, Risha, and Andronikos faced her on the other side, faces scrunched. Noghea took a swig of her alcohol - likely some Dubrillion concoction she’d brought with her - and laughed loudly. The other three grumbled and put their cards on the table, Noghea then scooping up her winnings.

“She must be cheating,” Messalina growled, folding her arms over her chest.

“Ain’t cheating, sweetheart,” the Mirialan declared proudly, “Just good.”

Risha shook her head, “Regardless, dear wife, you’re going to get yourself into trouble some day.”

Purple sparks ignited at Messalina’s fingertips.

Noghea just looked her up and down, a little bored, “Please, hun, I’ve shot my fair share of Sith. Ya don’t scare me with yer sparky fingers.”

The Sith stood abruptly, bringing her hand behind her shoulder, more sparks gathering in it, “Maybe you ought to be, smuggler.”

Kalina dropped her staff and lunged between them, hands out, at the same moment Andronikos leapt for his wife’s shoulders, wrapping his arms around her protectively. Messalina squeaked in surprise, putting out the lightning in her hands and putting her hand down to her side in a fist. Risha just sighed.

“You don’t need to like each other,” Kalina warned, speaking slowly and looking from the smuggler to the Sith, “but while you’re under this roof, you absolutely will not cause harm to anyone, including each other. Am I understood?”

Both of them pouted but nodded, looking away from each other.

“Come on, babe, let’s get drinks,” Andronikos suggested, sending a grateful look to the Jedi before pulling Messalina gently away from the table and up to the bar.

“Ghea, love, perhaps I can convince you come back to the ship with me early? While the girls are still with Ona’la?” Risha asked innocently, batting her eyelashes and raising her eyebrows. Noghea grinned widely and stood, holding out a hand for her wife, but - for once - not saying a word as they left the room together.

Kalina sighed and leaned down to pick up her staff. That was enough adrenaline for one night. One near-disaster was one too many, and they had been regular occurrences lately. Not just Noghea stirring up trouble, either. Any number of them had a mischievous streak, and most of the others had very little patience for it. It was very tiring.

Fortunately, Felix and Rhian were there, as well, saving her a seat at the table with them and the Amell-Cordan family. Rhian and Angela were happily doodling on their datapads together, giggling and showing each other their creations while the other four children ate quietly, their eyelids already beginning to droop. Poor things must have been exhausted after their trip. But Lieca, Tai, and Felix chatted quietly, catching up and laughing happily. Kalina pressed a kiss to Rhian’s head and slid in beside Felix, who kissed the side of her head and wrapped his arm around her waist.

“Ah, here is the Barsen’thor herself,” Tai greeted, “It’s been too long, Kalina, dear.”

She nodded, “Indeed it has, Minister Cordan. How have you been?”

“Busy,” he replied, taking another bite as a plate was slid in front of Kalina, “We’ve been sending weapons to Zakuul in the hopes that they’ll keep their accursed Star Fortresses out of our skies. Balmorra has only just regained its freedom from the Sith Empire, it would demoralize the people completely if another invader came in.”

Lieca put her hand on his back softly, “So far, Zakuul has preferred to keep their distance. There is no need for them to invest heavily in a planet willing to help them. But Tai and Zenith are working on ways to keep Zakuul out permanently.”

“Zenith?” Kalina asked, “I didn’t even know he was back on Balmorra. How is he?”

“Same as always,” Tai chuckled, “He grumbles at most of my suggestions at first, but he’s warmed up to the idea of keeping a facade of friendship with Zakuul while we work to subvert their goals on Balmorra.”

They continued to chat and eat, giving Kalina a much-needed reprieve from being a leader, and allowing her to simply be human again. Their conversation drifted from Balmorra to the kids to their Jedi training to Ona’la and Thexan’s presence on the base.

That was, until Rhian leaped up onto the bench and proclaimed, “Mama, look! I drew a Wampa! Like the one you saved Daddy from!”

Felix went bright red, but Kalina laughed, taking the datapad to inspect it closer while also sitting Rhian back down.

“It’s beautiful,” she remarked, suppressing a yawn, “Rhian, why don’t you and Dad go back to the ship? I’m sure he’d love to tell you the story about the Wampa again.” She winked at Felix who grinned and stood up gracefully, scooping his daughter in his arms and kissing her noisily.

“Maybe this time, I’ll have to save _you_ from the Wampa!” he declared, making Wampa roars as Rhian laughed almost hysterically.

Kalina reached up to kiss her husband, “I’ll see you in a minute, love.”

“Perhaps we should head back, as well,” Lieca suggested, “The kids are looking tired, and I’m sure we could use all the rest we can get before we are caught up on all that’s been going on.”

From there they dispersed, Kalina to the strategy room - the others had started taking to calling it a “War Room” but she hesitated at the idea that they were fighting a war - and Lieca, Tai, and family back to their ship.

She was surprised to see a single light on when she entered, and heard two voices.

“Theron, could you _please_ just let me work?” Rimea pleaded.

“I will, just as soon as you tell me what you’re doing,” he replied haughtily.

“It’s none of your concern.”

“But it _is_ my concern,” he replied sharply, “You’re a spy for the Empire, how can we trust you?”

Rimea stopped tapping on the console, “ _Former_ spy, Theron. And you do know it’s my sister trapped on that Force-forsaken world, right? I’m not doing this for the damn Empire. I’m doing it for her. And for Lana.”

“Lana?” Theron asked, “Why-?”

Kalina entered the room, making sure to tap her boots on the floor loud enough to interrupt them. Both of them spun their heads around to look at her, radiating fear before they recognized her and breathed a collective sigh of relief.

“Everything alright in here?” she asked, stepping up to the console in the table without looking at either of them.

“Just peachy,” Theron replied easily, as if it was a gut reaction to lie. Rimea said nothing.

Kalina keyed a few notes into the console concerning the meeting first thing in the morning and then turned to them both, leaning against the table. They sat in silence for a moment, the dim light casting shadows over both of their faces, making them harder to read. Theron, as usual, had thrown up a wall of disdain to hide whatever other feelings he might be having. Rimea, although clearly uncomfortable by his presence, muffled and muddled her anxiety. _Spies._

“Either of you want to tell me what’s going on?” Kalina finally asked, rubbing her staff between her hands.

“No,” Theron replied quickly. Again Rimea said nothing.

Kalina motioned to the door, “Theron. Get out.”

He stared at her, flabbergasted.

She was too tired to be diplomatic about this, “You heard me. Go back to the dining hall. Or your ship. Find Maraalor or Maire or Jonas or someone who actually wants to be graced with your presence. Stop torturing Rimea because your ego can’t stand another spy on board who might actually be good at her job.”

“I do not-”

Kalina put her hand up, “Enough. I don’t want to hear it. Go.”

Theron huffed and strode out the door without another word.

“I’m sorry,” Rimea muttered as Kalina made her way to her, “I know he’s just trying to get under my skin and considering I worked for Imperial Intelligence for four years, you’d think I’d know how to handle that by now-”

“Nonsense,” Kalina said, kneeling in front of her, “Are you alright?”

Rimea looked at her hands in her lap, “Yes. I’m fine. Thank you.”

“Do you want me to have a conversation with him tomorrow or would you like to?”

“I’ll do it,” Rimea replied with a determined grin on her face, “I’m still capable of standing up to an asshole. That’s what this whole venture is about, isn’t it? Whether folks believe that asshole is Arcann or Vitiate doesn’t really matter.”

Kalina smiled softly, pressing on her legs with her hands to stand up again.

“Thank you,” Rimea said again, “I can’t say I ever expected a Jedi to stand up for me.”

“We’re all allies here,” the Jedi replied, “We’re all on the same team now. It wouldn’t have mattered if you were an Imperial spy or a Zakuulan rebel or a Republic soldier sitting there. Theron was being an ass.”

She smiled in the relative darkness, “All the same, thank you.”

Kalina nodded, looking at the screen in front of her, watching strings of numbers fly by, “Do you mind telling me what you’re working on?”

Rimea shrugged, “At the moment, finding the right passcode to get past the blockade on Zakuul. I’ve finally found the terminal that dispenses the information, but trying to hack into it without their knowledge has proven, well, difficult. They switch around the code every few hours, but if I can get in from this terminal, it’s a simple matter of transferring the data stream to whatever shuttle we take to get there.”

Kalina pointed to another block of text on the other side of the large screen, “These don’t look like passcodes.”

The other woman paused for a moment, before she replied slowly, willing her voice not to shake, “You would be correct. Those would be chemical formulas.”

“Chemical formulas? For what?”

Rimea swallowed visibly, “To combat carbonite poisoning. Lana’s felt it for months now, but she and Maraalor confirmed this afternoon that Raelyn is dying in that tomb. I’m finding the right combination of medications to cure her of it once we find her. Perhaps it’s a little early, considering we’ve not yet finalized our plans on the rescue mission, but it makes me feel useful, at least.”

“Lana is worried that by telling the others, they won’t think rescuing her is a viable option anymore? Is that why you wouldn’t tell Theron what you’re doing?”

Rimea nodded, “Something to that effect.”

Kalina took a deep breath. Carbonite poisoning. Raelyn must be furious that she was dying from poison rather than a wound in combat. Or literally anything else, really. _Poison is always a coward’s tool,_ she’d said staunchly many years ago, _When I go, it’s going to be in a blaze of fire and glory. None of this ‘go softly into the night’ garbage._ She shook herself free of the memory.

“You should get some rest, Rimea,” Kalina urged gently, putting a hand on her shoulder, “These reports will still be here in the morning. I’m sure your family misses you.”

The other woman smiled sadly, “You’re probably right. Goodnight, Kalina. And thank you.”

The Jedi just nodded as she watched the other woman leave. She vaguely felt like someone had punched her in the gut, and she recalled her staff to her hand from where she’d left it leaning against the table. Raelyn was not only planets away, she was dying. Tears burned in her eyes, and she knew it was a combination of exhaustion and worry, that they’d figure out how to save Raelyn from her prison and the poison, but that fact didn’t make it any easier to drive the tears back. She limped out of the strategy room, flicking off the light as she went, and turned back down the hallway towards the guest rooms.

Kalina knocked on the third door on the left softly, aware that it was now relatively late, but received no answer. She knocked again. Nothing. Carefully, she pushed down on the door handle, and the lever clicked softly as the door swung open. The room was empty, and dark save a few dim luminescent globes on the walls that emitted a soft blue-green hue over the space. The door was open to the small private patio, the thin curtains blowing in the breeze.

Lana was curled up on the couch outside, her bare feet beneath her; she looked out over the sea, swirling a glass of bourbon absently in one hand and rubbing circles in her thigh with the other.

“Lana?” Kalina asked softly from the doorway, her eyes adjusting to the dimness to see that she was dressed in lounge pants and a loose t-shirt rather than her normal green and black armor.

She smiled faintly, a touch of hysteria around the corners of her mouth, “I was wondering when you’d come by.”

“Are you alright?”

She shook her head, still smiling, “Not even in the slightest.”

Kalina sat beside her and took her free hand in hers, “She’s going to be okay. We’re going to get her out of there.”

“My wife is _dying_ ,” she said, rather matter-of-factly, “Our rescue will mean nothing if she is gone before we arrive.”

“Then we’ll make sure she doesn’t.”

Lana finally looked over to her, “You have no way of doing that.”

Kalina shrugged, refusing to move her eyes from Lana’s, “Maybe not. But that doesn’t mean I’m giving up on her.”

The Sith put her glass on the side table and moved her hand to Kalina’s, “I know. I apologize, that was harsh. I just can’t think… can’t think about…”

There were so much roiling inside her, Kalina pulled her in to hug her. Lana dropped her head onto Kalina’s shoulder and shuddered as she sobbed.

“Oh, Lana,” Kalina murmured, wrapping her arms around the other woman as far as she could, holding her tightly and crying with her.

“We can’t have come this far just to fail,” she whispered between heaving breaths that moved her entire body. She slid her arms around Kalina and squeezed like she was desperately trying to hold onto whatever sanity and hope she had left. They both sat there long into the night, saying nothing of any real meaning, and certainly nothing the other didn’t already know. They cried and held onto each other and sniffled until they couldn’t anymore, and they separated slowly, but Kalina still held Lana’s hand tightly.

Lana reached for a tissue and wiped her eyes tiredly, “I must look like such a wreck.”

She handed another one to Kalina, who did the same, “That makes two of us.”

They both laughed weakly at the joke, but looked at the other sincerely.

“We’re going to find her, Lana,” Kalina said after a moment, without a drop of doubt in her voice, “We’re going to bring her back safe and sound. I promise.”

Lana nodded and sniffled, “I know. I won’t give up on her. And I won’t give up on this alliance, either, even should the worst happen.”

Kalina’s holocomm buzzed with a text message. Both women looked at it while Kalina pulled the device from her pocket and announced, “Felix. Wondering where I am and if I’m alright.”

Lana looked down to her lap, pulling at the skin on the fingers, “Go to them.”

“Will you be alright?” Kalina asked.

“I’ve managed this long,” she replied sadly, “I’ll be alright.”

“Lana…”

The Sith waved her hand and threw back what was left of her bourbon, “Go. I’ll see you tomorrow, Master Lornacch.”

Kalina shook her head a little, “Try and get some rest, alright? I’ll see you in the morning, Lord Beniko.”

Lana blinked slowly, barely holding her eyes open, but she managed to smile a little and nod as Kalina departed.

\---

Caoimhe sat on the floor in the starboard dormitory with her legs crossed, breathing slowly. Her head was pounding and she winced a little through her meditations.

“The Force is a being, ebbing and flowing with life,” she said softly, “I exist in the Living Force, pushed and pulled at its whim. The Force is neither good nor evil, but the power that affects all life. My life is my own, but it is guided by the Force.”

“That’s good, I like that,” a gruff and crackled voice commented absently, “Ri, did you teach her that?”

“Many years ago,” a second voice replied, gentle and sweet, “It sounds far better when she says it, though.”

Caoimhe opened her eyes to two familiar Force apparitions in front of her. The first speaker was leaning against the doorway, chewing absently on a toothpick, while the second one was seated on her knees in front of her with her head to her chest. Amira Khan and Sennyri Namis, respectively. Perhaps they were better known as Darth Revan and the Jedi Exile to the rest of the galaxy, but to Caoimhe they were family. Sennyri was her direct grandmother twelve times removed; Amira was Sennyri’s half-sister. In life, they looked almost nothing alike given their coloring was completely different, but now that they were both various hues of blue, it was easy to see the similarities in their faces. It was far from unusual to see either of them on her ship, and in addition to sentient company they also acted a good defense mechanism. No one wanted to steal a haunted ship.

“Hello, grandmothers,” Caoimhe greeted tiredly.

The speaker by the door huffed, “I am _not_ your grandmother. Please don’t ever call me that.”

“Please, Amira, could you be reasonable?” the other apparition sighed.

Amira blew out of her nose, despite the fact that she had no need to breathe, “Do you even know me? Not once in my entire life have I been  _reasonable_.”

The second speaker didn’t reply, instead shaking her head and lifting her head and sending a small stream of the Force from her hand to Caoimhe’s temple, “Hello, dear. How have you been holding up?”

Caoimhe shrugged, “Alright, I guess.”

“That shitty, huh?” Amira chimed, moving closer and sitting beside her sister.

“Is this what it was like for you after Malachor Five, Sennyri?” the younger woman asked.

The other apparition grimaced almost imperceptibly and then smiled sadly, “I wasn’t bonded to nearly as many as you are, dear. But yes, the sensation was similar.”

“How did you deal with it?”

“I didn’t,” Sennyri admitted, “But we’ve been over this before. You know what happened.”

Caoimhe nodded, “I know. But I can’t hide from the galaxy forever, can I? I can’t help anyone from here, and what’s the point of living if I can’t help people?”

Amira laughed, “She got that from me.”

But Sennyri ignored her sister, “Your time will come, Caoimhe. Just as mine did.”

“But you came back to a broken galaxy,” she objected, “I can’t possibly fix an entire galaxy.”

Both apparitions smiled knowingly, but it was Sennyri who spoke, “No one is expecting you to fix the entire galaxy. Sometimes helping one person is enough.”

\---

Arcann winced as the medical droid drilled in the last screw of his prosthetic arm as it was reattached to his shoulder, breathing in through his teeth silently. His mask lay on the table beside him, it too having been taken for recalibrations. He picked up the mask and took a last breath of fresh air before he clicked it into place and the noises of the room became clear again. The droid was clattering quietly as it worked, and monitors beeped in the background.

Something poked his scarred side and he yelped before immediately turning and glaring at the offending physician.

“A thousand apologies, Your Highness,” he said without any emotion at all, not even looking up at Arcann.

If he wasn’t so tired, he’d punish him for his insolence. But he could barely keep his eyes open as it was, and his head was spinning with so many numbers and reports that he couldn’t focus on literally anything. Even as the physician touched and prodded him, his normal defense mechanisms didn’t come up. He didn’t tense, he didn’t hold his breath, he didn’t lash out. He sat there passively, accepting whatever treatments the other man gave him. Just as Father would have wanted, probably. He winced at the thought.

“You really should get more sleep, Your Highness,” the doctor suggested, again not looking at him, “We have many stims that would help you in that regard. Your insomnia is not only slowing brain functions, but physical ones. Your metabolism has slowed down by twelve point three eight percent and your…”

He continued, but Arcann wasn’t listening. He stared at the doctor’s lips as he spoke, tracing their movements with his heavy eyes. They were attractive as far as lips went, rounded and smooth, slightly darker than the rest of his complexion. The doctor moved his hands to his mouth for a moment, and Arcann looked at them, too. They were long and slender, covered in pale blue sanitary gloves, but he imagined the color of them beneath being similar to the rest of him: a rich tawny color, but in the light it almost shimmered golden. His eyes were a dark brown, far darker than anything else about him. Arcann wondered what the rest of him looked like under his lab coat. Now that his mask and arm were reattached, he needn’t worry about feeling vulnerable should they both somehow become naked. Preferably in each other’s presence so he could see the doctor’s reactions.

“Would you like to continue to examine my condition in my quarters?” he asked, completely interrupting the other man.

Finally, he looked up in surprise and met his good eye, “I, uh, if that is what you desire, Your Highness, we can certainly move the monitoring equipment-”

“That is not the examining I was intending.”

He blushed, cheeks turning bright red to be chosen like that by the Emperor himself, “I can hardly refuse such an offer from you, Your Highness.”

Arcann looked at him, more focused than he had been at any point in the last three days, “Anyone can refuse my offers. I’ll not bed anyone against their wishes.”

The doctor’s gaze went from the Emperor’s eyes to his lips and then lingered on his naked torso, and Arcann knew what his answer would be.

“I would be honored to accompany you, Your Majesty,” he said, clearing out his throat.

Arcann grinned, the jolt of adrenaline that ran through him feeling like electricity in his veins. He leapt off the table, grabbed the doctor by the hand, and led him down the hall wearing nothing but a pair of lounge pants.

As it turned out, the doctor had a particularly good grasp of anatomy, and Arcann felt more satisfied than he had in a long time.

But he was still awake.

The man beside him was fast asleep, curled up in his arm with a hand on his chest. Arcann knew it was supposed to be intimate, that that was a thing people did after sex, but he couldn’t help but feel a little queasy at the casual snuggling. So he slowly moved his arm out from under the other man and rested it behind his head, encouraging the doctor to roll over with a touch of the Force. Fortunately, it worked, and the soft snoring continued.

It was uncomfortably dark in his room, but turning on a light might have awoken his companion, and the thought of having to deal with another person at this moment was far more uncomfortable than the darkness. So he laid there, staring up at the ceiling, wondering when he’d get an actual full night’s sleep again. He’d hoped that the recalibration of his arm and mask would help, or the sex, but he still found no relief. Maybe he’d sleep again after they conquered Ryloth. Or Nar Shaddaa. Or Voss. Maybe after he finally hunted down the last of the Scions.

His legs started jittering, so he rolled off the bed carefully and started pacing. Not the slow, methodical pacing of a man lost in thought, but something closer to a manic speed-walk. There was something uncomfortable wriggling inside him and if he kept moving it would settle, at least enough to let him _think_.

But his legs were so tired, too. They could barely hold him up anymore, and he dragged his hands along the wall to keep his balance. He could barely keep his head up, but he had to keep moving or he was sure his head would explode.

His room was too constricting. On the twelfth lap around, he started to feel claustrophobic and was intensely aware of the restrictions of the walls, so he pushed open the door into the hallway, letting in the blinding white light before he snuck out. He walked absently, his thoughts roaming from Ryloth to Star Fortresses to taxes to an attractive diplomat from Dubillion he’d met the week before.

When he finally focused on his surroundings again, he was in the Throne Room. There were no skytroopers, no Knights guarding the walkway. Just Arcann and the throne. His throne. He stopped on the walkway, just looking at it.

Valkorion was sitting on it.

He blinked and shook his head. He was _dead_. Arcann watched the Outlander kill him. He watched his body burn and scattered his ashes to the winds.

His father said nothing, just stared at him and tapped his twisted and gnarled fingers on the arms of the throne. His face was drawn in a scowl, his eyes empty and yet somehow also disappointed.

“You’re supposed to be dead,” Arcann growled.

Valkorion said nothing, just continued to tap his fingers.

“Well?”

Again nothing. Arcann rubbed his eyes with the palm of his hand angrily. This couldn’t be real. He must be hallucinating. His lack of sleep was finally driving him over the edge.

“Answer me!” he cried, “You are _dead_! I saw the Sith kill you!”

Someone screamed behind him.

“Brother! Why are you naked!?” Arcann whipped his head around to see Vaylin shielding her eyes with her arm.

Arcann looked down and swore. He hadn’t even thought to put on pants before he left his room. Hadn’t even noticed as he wandered the palace completely naked. How many people had he walked past? Probably not that many given the hour. Thank Scyva.

“Are you seriously so delirious that you didn’t even notice?” Vaylin still refused to look at him. Arcann grumbled something noncommittal in response.

Vaylin shook her head.

“Why are you even here?” she asked.

Arcann paused for a moment and looked back to the throne. Valkorion was gone.

“I don’t know,” he replied honestly, “Guess I was looking for something.”

“Clearly wasn’t a pair of pants,” she muttered, “Did you find what you were looking for?”

Arcann shook his head.

“I’m going to take your silence as a no,” she sighed, her arm still over her eyes.

They both stood in silence for a long, uncomfortable moment. Arcann looked around the mostly empty room, looking for any other sign of Valkorion. But there was nothing.

“Why are you here?” he asked quietly.

Vaylin shrugged, “Seemed like the place to go.”

“At three in the morning?”

Vaylin paused and lowered her voice, “You’re not the only one who can’t sleep around here. I just happen to put clothes on before I go out for late night strolls.”

Arcann twisted his mouth into a grimace. It _was_ ridiculous. He looked back at the empty throne, thinking just how absurd it was that a moment earlier he actually thought he’d seen his father sitting there. He really did need to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The lovely Lieca Amell belongs to angelicfangirl! THANKS BABE


	10. Not a Place, but a People

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warnings in this one! For depictions of battle (including implied deaths), blood, and injuries to the head.  
> I've also got more hover text for the Mando'a!

_Raelyn,_

_You are beginning to slip from my grasp in my meditations, the voice which cried out to me clearly so long ago is barely a whisper now. Maraalor has talked with me about you, and he fears that you’re suffering from some sort of carbonite poisoning. In conjunction with the parasitic Emperor, I can only imagine what it must be like. I try not to think of the pain you must be in._

_I will be there soon, my love._

_Hold on, and I’ll be there soon._

_L._

\---

_Mandalore is not a place. It is a people._

Oh, sure, there’s a planet named Mandalore, a planet that once had buzzed with activity and trade and culture and life. But the essence of Mandalore was never in its cities, its fisheries, or its beskar mines. The essence of Mandalore lived in the hearts and minds of its people. Mandalorians had been scattered throughout the galaxy for centuries, only a small percentage of them still inhabiting their namesake homeworld. But Mandalore lived on through the diaspora, as well.

Mandalore lived in the hearts of the thousands of Mandalorians gathered above the city of Keldabe. Reports had come up to them that Zakuul had already taken Mandalore as their own and built skytrooper factories, utilizing the beskar of the mines and the weapons factories already built there. In the process, the locals had been pushed out of their homes, forced to live in camps just outside the city walls. These were the people who had called Mand’alor the Vindicated and asked for the aid of the Clans. Their enemies were primarily droids, which were normally seen as unworthy foes, but Zakuul had taken the Mandalorian heartworld, made refugees of its people. And that was unacceptable. There was no way they could refuse a fight like this.

They could see the Eternal Fleet ships and the Star Fortress from the bridge, huge behemoths of metal looming over their home. They kept their distance while they finalized their battle plans, but even from their vantage point, it was easy to see that the city was covered in a thick black smoke, the mines working overtime and suffocating whoever may still be in the city itself. The Star Fortress was positioned directly over the city, its mere presence threatening and dominating.

Staceasa frowned at her datapad: Elsie had sent schematics for the core of the Star Fortress over Nar Shaddaa. As soon as they won Mandalore back, she was headed there, but not if she couldn’t find a way to get rid of that accursed thing without blowing everyone up. She sighed and put it down, instead looking out the window of her quarters on the Clan Lok fleet ship. Her room overlooked the hangar bay which also doubled as a training ground, and a few dozen of her brothers and sisters were practicing before the fight. The energy of the ship had been electric in the last couple days as the countdown to the invasion began. She spotted Artus Lok, Mand’alor the Vindicated and the man responsible for her adoption into the Mandalorian ranks, sparring with Kelaari Farr, the Chief of Clan Farr. He had a wide grin on his face as their vibroblades locked and they pushed against each other. Even with the power of the Force on her side, Staceasa could see the veins pulsing in Kelaari’s forehead as she fought. The Chiss allowed herself to smile a little as her mentor gave the Sith Mandalorian all she could handle.

Torian wrapped an arm around her waist and pressed his nose into her hair, peppering kisses along the side of her head. The rest of the ship disappeared as she took his hand in hers and she pressed her body against his.

“Morning,” she greeted, “Crysta called. Nellie still hasn’t said a word to her.”

Torian frowned, “Doesn’t like strangers.”

Staceasa nodded. Nellie was nearly four now, and a curious and happy little kid until the moment a stranger walked into her line of sight. Or her parents walked out of her line of sight. It was hard not to worry about her being so far away back on Rishi, but Staceasa was needed here. Her family needed her here.

Torian looked out the window and smirked a little, “Mand’alor is at it with Alor Farr again, huh?”

“He’s giving her a run for her money,” she replied.

“Going to have to wrap it up soon to make this morning’s meeting.”

Staceasa nodded absently as a noise at the door drew her attention away. A human and Togruta wandered into the room, both of them sweating profusely.

“Theoretically, the Force should give her an insurmountable advantage,” the human explained, gesturing wildly with his hands, “But the trouble is controlling that power. There is a fine line between using the Force to its maximum potential and being drawn too far into its corruptive grasp.”

“Meg di’kutla,” the Togruta spat back, “Everybody’s got a weakness, Isaiah. Even the nutjob Sith. It’s as simple as that.”

Isaiah nodded profusely, “Of course, I’m not arguing that. The Sith’s weakness doesn’t come from the Force, though, it comes from their own inability to know their limits. The Force itself has no weaknesses, so theoretically, if someone could wield it perfectly, they would have no weaknesses, either.”

The human male was nearly a head shorter than his companion, and his dark shaggy hair was plastered to his forehead as he talked a mile a minute. The Togruta female, by contrast, closed her eyes and shook his head as he prattled on, wiping her vivid green montrals with a towel. Akaavi followed behind them, her bright red skin glistening from the morning’s workout.

“Isaiah, Shiraiya, Akaavi,” Torian said shortly to the human, then the Togruta, then the Zabrak.

“Thank the ancestors,” Shiraiya sighed, waving casually to Staceasa, “Any more of that and I would have launched myself into space.”

Isaiah stuck his tongue out, “You love me and you know it.”

Akaavi shook her head, “Any word from Mand’alor on the coming battle?”

“Not yet,” Torian replied glancing at the chrono on the wall, “Meeting’s shortly, though. Should have details after that.”

“You taking the Grand Champion with you, Alor?” Isaiah asked, “Or is this for Clan Chiefs only?”

The sound of bells chimed over the intercom, the warning that the meeting would be starting soon.

“Well, we’ll just hang around here, then,” Isaiah decided, “You two are far more qualified for this sort of thing, anyway.”

The two girls stared at him, unamused, but didn’t argue. Staceasa took the moment’s silence to move towards the doorway, silently urging Torian to follow. She adored all three of the Mandalorians standing in the room with them, but Staceasa was still unsure of how to act around them. Technically, they were all part of Clan Cadera, they were folks who had had no clan for whatever reason and Torian gladly brought them into his ranks. And Staceasa was his wife, yes, his partner in everything, but she wasn’t part of his Clan. She was still part of Clan Lok, one of Artus Lok’s most trusted advisors, and one of the two living Grand Champions of the Great Hunt. There was a disconnect between what relationship she _wanted_ with the others, and what she _should_ have with them. She and Torian had talked about it a few times, and he had no qualms about her sharing equally in the role of Alor, but she hesitated.

Torian, as always, could feel when she was nervous, and he wrapped his arm around her shoulders casually as they made their way through the ship to the bridge to meet their compatriots.

“Kebiin!” Shae called out from the elevator, putting out her hand to keep the door open so Torian and Staceasa could join her, “Gracing us with your presence, eh? Good to know someone else’ll keep Khomo in check.”

The Chiss grinned as she stepped in the small space beside the fiery redheaded Chief of Clan Vizla, “When Mand’alor asks your advice, you don’t turn him down.”

“No, no you do not,” Shae chuckled gruffly, “Torian, nice to see you, as always.”

He nodded silently as the elevator opened onto the bridge. Artus stood in the center, still in his workout attire with a towel around his neck; he was bent over a map, presumably of Keldabe, pointing and speaking to the woman beside him. Kelaari Farr was just as imposing in person, towering over Artus, her bright red hair standing straight up on her head in a mohawk, piercing green eyes carefully memorizing the map before her. She nodded alongside him, occasionally turning the implants in her ear to calibrate them with the noise level in the room. There were a dozen others crowded around the circular table, discussing tactics with the person beside them. Shae strolled in with her head held high, aiming for Jos and Valk Beroya and shaking their hands vigorously.

“Your pacifist of a wife decided not to join us, eh, Vizla?” Khomo Fett called from the other side of the table.

Shae crossed her arms over her chest and smirked, “Don’t you worry your empty head, Khomo, my wife is just fine. I just left her a bit… _indisposed_ … for the time being.”

Khomo shook his head in disgust as Staceasa put a hand to her mouth to keep from laughing as she approached the table.

Artus looked up, his dark eyes meeting Staceasa’s crimson ones, and a warm smile spread on his face, “Ner vod.”

Her heart fluttered as the leader of the Mandalorians called her his brother, worthy to be among their ranks and part of his family. She nodded, “Mand’alor.”

“Come, let us begin,” he said, urging her to stand on the opposite side of the table between him and Kelaari.

Staceasa obliged, and when she took her place beside Artus, she finally saw the map in full. It was in fact, the Mandalore capital city rendered in a vaguely blue tint, although the buildings and landscape had been simplified considerably to generic three-dimensional shapes. Keldabe was an old walled fort town turned city, bordered on three sides by a natural moat - the Kelita river - and on the fourth by a thickly wooded forest. It was best known for its haphazard construction but impeccable upkeep, meaning that ancient wooden structures stood proudly next to durasteel towers. There were four beskar mines and connected factories, making up a majority of the world’s exports. Overlaid on the map were holographic armies around Keldabe’s walls in green; the beskar mines were marked with a red square, the skytrooper factories with a red circle, the position of the Star Fortress with a red star; the refugee camps had bright purple pins in them; and the sluice gate and archway closest to the Kelita river were marked with a glittering gold mythosaur.

“Our goals must be three-fold,” Mand’alor began, “First, to free and arm our brothers trapped outside Keldabe’s walls. Second, to destroy the factories that soil our lands and mines. Third, to destroy that accursed flying fortress above our home.”

Khomo slapped his hands on the table, “Clan Fett will take that Star Fortress, Mand’alor-”

“Absolutely not,” Shae argued strongly, “The Star Fortress will take more than your rock-headed brethren, Khomo. You can’t punch and shoot your way through a radioactive monstrosity like that.”

Artus agreed with her before Khomo could complain, “Shae is right, Khomo. Your Clan is far better suited to the destruction of the skytrooper factories.”

“Those n’agole don’t deserve the gloried death my boys will give them,” Khomo resisted.

“No glory in dying in a miniature sun, Fett,” Torian replied evenly, “No more than against a skytrooper.”

Khomo huffed, but as he looked around the table, he realized he was greatly outnumbered and let it go.

“Clan Ordo will be happy to join Clan Fett in retaking Keldabe, Mand’alor,” the familiar gregarious voice of Corridan called from the elevator as he jogged the distance to the table and stood beside Torian, “Vod’ika and me can take ‘em all.”

“Nice of you to join us, Corridan,” Jos Beroya teased, although his frown was awfully convincing, “You get tied up in the bedroom again?”

Corridan grinned, “You wish, Beroya.”

“Gentlemen,” Artus interrupted, “If we could continue, please. If Cadera would like to join Ordo and Fett on the ground, I believe they would be well suited there.”

He looked to Staceasa and then to Torian, who nodded, “With the combined manpower of Cadera and Ordo-” someone snickered, but Torian ignored them even while Staceasa looked around the table with death in her eyes, “-we can take the northern quadrant.”

“With the largest mines,” Artus supplied, nodding in agreement with a sparkle of pride in his dark eyes, “A fine idea, Torian. Khomo, your clan can take the southern quadrant, closest to the archway and Kelita.”

“We’ll take the east quadrant, Mand’alor,” Valk offered, “the fighting is bound to be fierce by the walls and river, and Beroya is ready for it.”

Artus nodded, “Fine, fine.”

“Clan Farr will volunteer for the final quadrant,” Kelaari finally said, crossing her arms over her chest as if daring Artus to oppose her.

He didn’t, “The wall along the forest will have the greatest defenses. I believe your talents will come in handy for that.”

Kelaari smirked silently.

Staceasa looked around the table at the remaining clan leaders, wondering why she was really needed here. She had no clan she could offer anywhere, and it seemed the majority of them would be down in the city destroying things. That was straight-forward enough.

“I assume the mythosaur marks where we’ll make our entrance into the city, then?” Khomo said, breaking Staceasa’s line of thought.

Mand’alor nodded, “Yes. The archway is our best approach. It reaches all the way down to the river Kelita, and is difficult for outsiders to defend. So long as we draw the Zakuulan troops to us, we can bottle them up in the archway and easily take them out.”

Staceasa nodded slowly; a water approach was really the only sane way to infiltrate Keldabe. There were a few bold refugee camps out in the forests, but there was no entrance into the city from that side, making an advance impossible. The archway was well known as a mossy, quiet place for contemplation, and had long ago stopped being an actual entrance into the city, but left just enough space for a small infiltration group to draw out most of the nearby defenders. Presumably that was why Khomo agreed so readily to take the southern quadrant - so his troops could get inside the city first and claim the most honorable kills.

Her eyes wandered to the Star Fortress again, but Shae spoke and drew her attention away again.

“So, what, you want Vizla to save the refugees?”

Artus looked at her fiercely. “All other clans will join you in helping to free our brethren. Once they are armed and ready to fight, you will join the others inside the city and destroy the factories and reclaim the mines,” he turned his head slowly to Staceasa, “Leaving the Star Fortress to Clan Lok.”

Her breath caught in her chest. She’d been researching Star Fortresses for months now, since one was put over Nar Shaddaa. In an effort to free Elsie’s hospital from Zakuulan destruction, she’d researched schematics and power structures and anything else she could find on it. She’d even asked Mako to rummage through her old blacklisted channels for information.

This was why he called her here.

Her lips trembled a little as she waited for him to ask the question.

“So, Grand Champion, how do you suggest we go about this?”

\---

Torian stepped up into the shuttle, taking Corridan’s hand to haul himself in.

“Keep your kill count, cyare,” he said gently, slinging his rifle over his back, “Have to compare when we get back.”

Staceasa smiled, desperately trying to suppress the growing ball of anxiety in her gut, “No cheating.”

He winked and squeezed her hand as he stood up, “See you soon.”

“Be safe, riduur,” she all but whispered, “Ni kartayl gar darasuum .”

He nodded, “Ni kartayl gar darasuum.”

Corridan slapped him on the back and laughed at a joke she didn’t hear as the shuttle doors shut on the clans headed down to the surface. Which was all but one of them.

Staceasa turned around to the rest of her brethren in Clan Lok, Mand’alor chief among them. She took a deep breath and joined them in the final shuttle, theirs headed to the Star Fortress.

She had one calming thought as she stood in the cramped shuttle with her Clan.

_Mandalore isn’t a place. It is a people._

\---

Kelaari twisted her wedding band around her finger, willing her adrenaline to keep from spilling out of her fingers in bright purple sparks. Her wife stood beside her, holding onto the shuttle with one hand and gripping her blaster with the other. The engines were so loud that Kelaari had turned off her hearing implants, centering herself in the silence.

The trip to the surface took about twenty minutes, but felt more like a century as she felt the Force coursing through her veins.

The fight couldn’t come fast enough.

\---

Shiraiya looked over to Isaiah, who was bouncing from one foot to the other nervously. It was useful to have a combat medic on the team, and she certainly respected him as a comrade, but he was so damn _jittery_. Like he’d never been in a big battle before and had to calm his nerves, like some sort of outsider.

She looked over her blasters again, making sure there was no dirt or grime in any of the crannies. It would be dirty fast enough, she didn’t need to give it a head start.

It had been a long time since she’d fought in a battle this important to her. Not since she dueled the motherfucker who had her clan obliterated, and that was almost seven years ago. They were minutes away from the surface now; she could taste the adrenaline thick in the air. The feeling she had now was just about the same as it was then, and she delighted in the fight radiating off her comrades. These Zakuul motherfuckers had it coming, too.

\---

Isaiah was running through numbers of medication dosages in his head. It didn’t necessarily calm him down any, but it did keep his brain occupied enough that he wouldn’t babble at the two dozen other twitchy Mandalorians on the shuttle with him.

Torian stood directly beside him, stoic as always, but Isaiah could tell that he was nervous. Come to think of it, he wasn’t sure he’d ever seen Torian and Staceasa separated, and certainly not on the battlefield. He was never any good at words of encouragement, though, and besides, the noise of the engines was too loud to say anything to him without alerting everyone else that he could tell something was amiss with his clan leader. Isaiah had had a hard enough time finding a clan after Khomo disowned him, he didn’t fancy pushing his luck with the Cadera leader.

The shuttle slowed and grinded to a halt, jolting everyone stuffed on board enough to need the handles that hung from the ceiling to keep their balance. Not that Isaiah could reach it. But Shiraiya put a hand on his shoulder and kept him upright without so much as looking at him.

When the doors to the shuttle opened, sunlight spilled in and blinded him briefly, but he followed the others out and put his feet on blissfully sturdy ground. When he finally could see enough to look up, he stopped breathing.

Keldabe was nothing like he expected.

\---

Even from above the planet, Staceasa could see the destruction done to Keldabe. The walls were cracked and crumbling, buildings of wood and durasteel had fallen beside each other in heaps of rubble, thick black smoke was emitting from the skytrooper factories. The Kelita river was murky with blood and debris. Even after they took back the Mandalorian capital, there was no rebuilding all that was lost.

The shuttle shook violently as it navigated the layers of the atmosphere, trying to stay out of sight of the Star Fortress for as long as possible.

It was enormous, and Staceasa held her breath as the shuttle slid into one of the docking bays. Her scrambling codes must have worked because they didn’t explode into shards, so that was a good start. She clutched her blasters at her sides, waiting for the shuttle doors to open to the Fortress, where they would inevitably be met by hordes of skytroopers and Knights. Damn Knights and their stupid Sith magic.

As the door slid open, an explosion sounded at the front of the shuttle and Staceasa fell to the floor instinctively. Shrapnel from the cockpit whizzed by her as the body of the ship tilted forward and hit the ground. She could hear steps of at least a few dozen skytroopers even through the ringing in her ears.

Artus screamed a war cry from nearby, “Oya Manda!”

Staceasa pushed herself to her feet, and saw that most of her brothers and sisters had survived the explosion as they stood by their leader, as well. She looked back at the shuttle as she leaped to join her clan.

Well, they were going to need to find a new ride back. Assuming they made it that far.

\---

Only half of the shuttles landed safely on Mandalore. And the archway was nothing but rubble.

“Fuck,” Kelaari muttered, igniting her lightsaber in one hand, “Looks like we’re doing this the hard way.”

Khomo stood beside her and laughed, “Try to keep up, darjetii!”

He nimbly leaped over the gap in the bridge and clambered over the rubble, and with another belly laugh began to pick off the skytroopers on the other side.

“Oya Manda!” she cried, raising her lightsaber in the air and making a dash to join her comrade, hundreds of other Mandalorians following right behind her. The plan made on Artus’ bridge was all well and fine, but they’d made a critical error in assuming that any part of Keldabe remained standing after the Zakuulan bombardment. For a moment, Kelaari wondered if it was worth fighting for the mounds of wood and durasteel and glass. But it was only a moment. She saw the looks in her brothers’ and sisters’ eyes and knew that no matter the state of the city, it was worth it.

_Mandalore isn’t a place. It is a people._

She repeated the phrase to herself again as she separated a skytrooper from its head and moved swiftly to her next opponent. Adrenaline raced through her veins, chasing the Force out of her fingers as she shot a blast of lightning at a cluster of droids, watching it speed through the air only to be caught by the lightsaber of a Zakuulan Knight.

Kelaari smirked. She’d long waited for this moment.

\---

Clans Cadera and Ordo sped through the city in a dozen different paths, hoping that at least a few of them made it all the way to the beskar mine. They only destroyed the skytroopers in their path from the broken archway to their destination in the northern part of the city for the same reason. Shiraiya aimed her blaster over Isaiah’s head and shot right through the head of an unsuspecting Knight.

“Think he had a weakness, Uram?” she called teasingly as she ran beside him.

Isaiah frowned at her, panting lightly as he fought to catch up, and she laughed as she let off another few rounds through an alley.

“Oya Manda!” Torian’s hoarse voiced called ahead of them, “Stay focused!”

A blast whirred by Shiraiya, only narrowly missing her left lekku, and she whipped her head towards its source. A mountain of a skytrooper stood on top of a building that had miraculously survived. It was taller than two or three men, and they all skidded to a halt. When Akaavi’s shot ricocheted off its armor and landed harmlessly in the dirt in front of them, she knew the damn thing was made of beskar.

“Those bastards stole our beskar!” she cried.

“Were you expecting them to mail it to us?” Akaavi snapped back, throwing her polesaber out beside her.

Torian took a carefully aimed shot between its shoulder piece and head piece, and looked like it would have hit the mark if the n’agol hadn’t thrust its hand up.

Shiraiya grabbed Isaiah by the collar of his armor and flung the two of them behind a wall of rubble for cover. He babbled about something as she recalibrated her blasters. The damn skytrooper leaped down from the building, sending waves through the ground strong enough to rattle the building behind it. One of the glass windows shattered and fell to the ground.

Shiraiya was ready for battle. She wasn’t ready for this.

Isaiah crouched beside her and aimed, hitting the droid in the armpit. Sparks flew out of the socket and its arm fell to the ground. He whooped and hollered and jumped out from behind the cover. Shiraiya groaned and joined him. Someone had to keep him from getting killed.

\---

“Torian was right!” He yelled to no one in particular, “Between the joints!! That’s where his weakness is!”

Isaiah fought to keep his body from shaking as he bounded for the towering skytrooper. Shiraiya was beside him like she always was, fighting tooth and nail to defend him. He heard Akaavi screech in pain, and had to fight his own instincts to turn back and tend to her. He zigged and zagged across the street, hearing Torian call faintly behind him, until he was close enough to slide under the legs of the skytrooper. On his knees, he spun around and aimed for its neck quickly.

A single shot was all it took.

But the skytrooper didn’t go down easy - its head short-circuited and sparked before it flew off and rocketed into the only standing building. It shook again from the shock wave, and this time Isaiah heard the beams creak and bend and crack. But Isaiah only looked at the skytrooper in horror as its entire body exploded, sending shrapnel and beskar through the air in every direction. Shiraiya leaped on top of him before everything went black.

\---

They’d battled their way into the heart of the Star Fortress. There were only a half dozen troops left from the Clan Lok contingency, but they had come too far to turn back now. The huge radiating miniature sun that powered the Fortress pulsed in front of them. Staceasa could feel the radiation from where she stood catching her breath.

The Exarch paced in front of them, between them and the core, swiping her lightsabers on the floor intimidatingly.

“We can’t possibly make that, can we, Mand’alor?” someone asked beside her.

Artus straightened, wiping blood and sweat from his brow, “No. But I have to.”

Staceasa looked over to him, but didn’t say anything.

“Staceasa, tell me again how to dismantle this thing.”

She shook her head, “You’d have to kill the Exarch first-“

“Not a problem,” he replied proudly, “I’ve been training with Kelaari precisely for this moment. How do we get stop the reactor?”

Staceasa took a deep breath, “Interrupt its radiation cycle somehow. Or find an off switch.”

“Mand’alor, you’re not really planning on-“

He ignored them, “Vode, find a shuttle and get back to the fleet. With the luck of the Ka’ra, the others will have taken the city, but if they need aid, give it to them. It has been an honor to fight beside you all.”

“We won’t leave you here-“

“This is not a discussion,” Mand’alor snapped, strapping his rifle to his back and extending his saber, “I’ll give you as much time as I can. Slanar! Let the Mando’ade fight another day!”

He flicked down his visor and turned on his shield, facing the Exarch.

Staceasa watched him for a moment before she corralled her brethren and called him, “Ib’tuur jatne tuur ash’ad kyr’amur, Mand’alor.”

\---

Kelaari held out her hand as Shae’s troops climbed and tumbled over what had once been the thickest part of Keldabe’s wall. Huge swaths of the impenetrable defense had crumbled down during Zakuul’s invasion, now allowing Vizla and the refugees to join the rest of the fight. Shae took one look at the inside of the city and swore into her headpiece.

_“What have you dikut’ne been doing in here?”_

Khomo’s frustrated voice came through Kelaari’s implants, _“Nice of you to join us, Vizla. I take it you’ve had better luck than us?”_

 _“These motherfucking droids have been picking off my men all day,”_ she hissed in reply, _“They knew we were coming.”_

 _“Shuttle away overhead!”_ Valk called, and every head turned up to the Star Fortress to see a Zakuulan shuttle fleeing from the vicinity and heading back to the Fleet.

_“Mand’alor! I don’t suppose you stole that shuttle?”_

_“Mand’alor is still inside the Star Fortress,”_ came the subdued and crackling voice of the Grand Champion, _“He ordered us to get out and-“_

She was interrupted by an ear-splitting crack, and the Star Fortress exploded in a bright fiery light. It seemed to happen in slow motion as the fortress split first in two, a huge fiery mass emitting in the center, orange and red and yellow tangled all together. Debris shot in every direction, first out into the atmosphere and then down to the planet’s surface as its gravity took them. Kelaari shielded her eyes and then her head as radioactive debris came raining down on them all.

\---

“Cyare!” Shiraiya heard Torian scream, even beneath the rubble and through the stabbing and pounding headache. Isaiah was still under her, unconscious and definitely wounded.

 _You d’ikut_ , she thought to herself, cupping the side of his face with her hand.

She pushed herself out of the remains of the building and skytrooper, gratefully taking Akaavi’s hands to haul herself out. The back of her head screamed in pain, she could hardly focus on anything else. Blood dripped into her eyes and she tried to wipe it out of her face with little success. Akaavi dragged Isaiah out of the wreckage and slung him over her shoulder even as she limped forward toward Torian. He stood with his rifle out, facing the setting sun but looking up directly into the exploding Star Fortress.

Shae’s crackling voice cut through the sounds of chaos, _“There’s nothing worth fighting for here. Pull out back to the fleet and we’ll reassess our options.”_

 _“We can still take the city back!”_ She heard Khomo cry, _“We can take back out homeworld!”_

 _“At what cost, Khomo?”_ Torian spoke evenly through the comm, his voice dead, _“How many Clans and Clan leaders have we lost today? Mandalore is not a place. It is a people. Pull out and Mandalore lives to fight another day. Stay and Mandalore dies with us here.”_

Shiraiya suddenly felt dizzy and nauseated as the debris starting falling around her. She pulled out her earpiece and put her hand to the back of her head, and stopped abruptly. Instead of her rough lekku, there was nothing but a dripping stub. She fell to her knees, overwhelmed with realization and pain.

Akaavi was yelling something at her, but her vision was clouding and her hearing muffled as the world darkened around her.

\---

The shuttle was sturdier than the one they flew in on, but it still rocked violently as the wave of radiation and debris rocketed around them. Staceasa sat in the cockpit alongside one of her brothers, and she maneuvered them as best she could through the maze. It was worse than a damn asteroid field. Her earpiece had fizzled out moments before, and she had no idea what was going on below in the city, but she needed to focus on the six people around her and getting them out alive.

“Mand’alor is dead,” one of them moaned from behind her.

“Yeah, he is, and we will be, too, if you don’t get your head on straight,” she snapped back, “Go man a turret and take out the biggest pieces of wreckage you can.”

The other Mandalorian nodded solemnly and descended below deck.

Something smacked into the back of the shuttle and it fish-tailed wildly, Staceasa frantically trying to straighten it out again. Someone threw up behind her.

“Someone check our back-end! I need a systems check!” she cried behind her, never moving her eyes away from the front of the ship, “How’re the engines, Jorie?”

“Running on fumes, but otherwise they’re fine.”

“Good,” she replied, “We’re gonna have to punch it.”

Before anyone could protest, she reached beside her and accelerated the shuttle as fast as she could. It didn’t have lightspeed capabilities, but even so, the Zakuulans built fancy tech - and the Exarchs got the fanciest and fastest ships available.

They pushed through the last of the debris and finally landed in empty space. The Eternal Fleet was on the other side of the planet, and all she could see for miles were stars. And the Mandalorian fleet ship. She’d never been more relieved to see so many stars.

“Jorie, can you get us to the fleet ship?” she asked, falling back in her seat and letting her arms drop beside her seat.

“Yeah, so long as they don’t send fighters out behind us.”

Staceasa nodded and closed her eyes. She pulled the comm piece out of her ear and dropped it to the ground. The radioactive blast fried it anyway, she didn’t have much hope of it working again.

\---

Kelaari stepped up into the final shuttle, holding out her hand for Ceta to take and climb aboard. The ship took off as the doors closed and she looked around her; the remnants of Clan Ordo sat on the floor in the back, most of Clan Vizla had taken a separate shuttle but a dozen or so filled the middle space, and the Cadera Clan seemed to have survived, too. At least mostly. Torian’s chest heaved painfully, the Zabrak was clearly favoring one leg, the tiny human and Togruta were both unconscious and on stretchers, but they were alive. Didn’t have enough space to load up the corpses.

Shae walked from one end of the shuttle to the other, muttering into her earpiece. Kelaari couldn’t read her lips and didn’t care enough to fuss with her damaged implants. She was tired and she was angry.

Ceta leaned her head on Kelaari’s shoulder, immediately drawing her attention. They’d lost Mand’alor, half their clan, and thousands of Mandalorian brothers today. But she hadn’t lost her wife. That was something to be grateful for.

\---

Staceasa paced the hangar bay nervously as the half dozen surviving shuttles came back. She watched wounded after wounded hauled off the ships and into the medbay, waiting and praying. Ysaine had conscripted her a half dozen times to help her move the injured, but her mind was never on the work.

“Mand’alor blew up the Star Fortress single-handedly,” one of them said.

“Shit,” Ysaine commented absently, checking the vital signs of the woman in front of her.

“Died doing it,” she explained, “But that’s still impressive.”

“Mmmm.”

The last shuttle landed in the hangar bay, and as soon as the doors opened, Shae jumped out and was shouting orders. Staceasa held her breath as she saw Kelaari and Ceta Farr exit, then more of Clan Vizla, and all that remained of Clan Ordo. She didn’t see Corridan, and she sprinted the length of the room, clambering up into shuttle as Akaavi hobbled out of it.

The moment she saw Torian she started to cry.

“Cyare,” she said, embracing him tightly.

He grunted painfully, but held onto her for a long time. Someone came and retrieved Shiraiya and Isaiah off the shuttle, but Staceasa didn’t care. She was sure that he’d died on that planet, sure that she’d be left a widow, sure that Nellie would grow up without a father.

“You’re alive,” she whispered, unable to think of anything else.

His left side twinged, and he grimaced, “Not out of the woods yet.”

Torian practically collapsed in her arms, putting all of his weight on her. She slung his arm over her shoulder, and the two of them hobbled to the edge of the shuttle.

“Izzy!” she called, and the tall woman looked up from a datapad for only a second before she jogged over and took Torian from his wife.

“Shit, kid,” she commented, also, “Could y’ve waited a little longer to do this? Just filled my last bed.”

Torian chuckled quietly, “Sorry to inconvenience you.”

“Alright, just for you, kid, I’ll get you a deluxe suite. Room with a view,” Ysaine winked to Staceasa who only nodded.

She couldn’t lose him now. Not when she just got him back.

\---

Isaiah opened his eyes slowly to a bright white light and a pounding headache. As he put a hand to his forehead, he actually realized that _everything_ hurt. How much of that building landed on him? He groaned quietly, checking to make sure he still had all his fingers and toes. Each movement sent pain shooting through him, but he pressed on, checking to see if he had any additional scars on his chest other than the two he’d had before. There was a long one along his right side, probably where some shrapnel had lodged itself. Gods, it felt like that fight was a million years ago.

The side of the bed moved a little, as if someone was sitting there and shuffled their position. He willed his head to turn, to see who was beside him.

It was a Togruta, vibrant green montrals and deep teal skin. Her center lekku was bandaged and bloody still, her left montral the same. Her left lekku, although intact, had deep scarring from top to bottom. His heart sank as he realized who it was.

“Shir,” he rasped, choking back tears and gingerly moving his hand to touch her side.

Shiraiya shuddered, but as he went to move his hand back, he felt her intertwine her fingers with his.

“You d’ikut,” she uttered barely above a whisper, “You almost got us all killed with that stunt.”

He turned his head back to the ceiling and sighed, “I’m sorry, Shiraiya.”

There was a moment of heavy silence between the two of them before she turned and kissed his forehead, “Thank you for saving us. If not for you, Clan Cadera wouldn’t have survived that hellscape.”

He opened his eyes again and saw that she was grinning, the white light forming a kind of halo around her head.

Isaiah squeezed Shiraiya’s hand, “I’m Mando’ad. That’s what we do.”

She snorted, “You’re still a d’ikut.”

He chuckled, “That’s fair.”

\---

Staceasa rubbed at her eyes with the palm of her hand as she read the full reports of the battle in the city. Artus had amassed the largest single coalition of Mandalorians _ever_ , and nearly seventy percent of them were killed or missing in the span of a single day. The attack on Keldabe was nothing short of catastrophic. Their plan had been thorough, their forces were tough and brave, how could this have happened? So many Mandalorians were dead, most of the others were injured in some way, and Mand’alor himself blew up with the Star Fortress.

Torian squeezed her hand gently, “Don’t blame yourself, cyare.”

They were on the bed in their own room together, Torian laying on the left side, Staceasa sitting on the right. As Torian’s injuries healed, Ysaine had come in a couple times each day to check on them - looking a little more exhausted each time - but otherwise they hadn’t spoken to anyone. Not even Akaavi, Isaiah, or Shiraiya. The fleet ship had begun the retreat back to Dxun, and in the three days that had passed, no one wanted to talk about what happened on the Star Fortress. There wasn’t much to say, really, but every time Staceasa thought about it, she choked back sobs.

Mandalore the Vindicated was dead.

He died to destroy a Star Fortress so his brothers and sisters could reclaim their homeworld. But they couldn’t reclaim it. The damn droids had taken their homeworld and she couldn’t even fight back against them.

\---

Torian still hobbled and wheezed a little when they landed on Dxun, but otherwise seemed mostly back to himself. As much as any of them were back to themselves, anyway. He leaned a little on Staceasa as they made their way to the central hub of the Mandalorian camp.

She took a seat in the back and kissed Torian as he left to take his place among the clan leaders in the center of the room. Supposedly this was the room where Mandalore the Preserver rebuilt the Clans after the Mandalorian Wars, and it held historical significance for them as much as it was simply a convenient meeting ground.

Staceasa fidgeted with her hands in her lap, bouncing her leg up and down anxiously as the room filled to capacity.

“Mind if I sit here?” a familiar voice asked cheerfully.

She scooched over, “You’re always welcome, Ysaine.”

“Course I am,” the taller woman agreed, pretending to recline on the bench and put her hands behind her head, “Still thought it was polite to ask.”

Staceasa snorted and shook her head.

Shae was in the center of the room with Torian and the others, her hair unmistakable despite her short stature. She was already arguing with Jos and Valk about something. Khomo limped his way into the meeting, muttering and spitting with every step. Droga and Ralia Lok followed him, their faces full of grief as they mourned the loss of their brother. They hadn’t been part of the attack on Keldabe, but they’d certainly lost as much as anyone else in the endeavor.

“Vode!” a large male Twi’lek announced from the center of the room, “Today, we will decide who will follow in the steps of Artus Lok as Mand’alor. No one can replace Mand’alor the Vindicated, but there must be a Mand’alor nonetheless. We have celebrated his life this past week, and it is time for the Mando’ade to have a leader again.”

The proceedings began relatively subdued, far more polite and civilized than Staceasa had been expecting. Droga and Ralia quickly conceded that neither of them wished to hold the position, thinking it best that someone who fought beside Artus take his place. The other leaders seemed to agree on that point, but that was about all they agreed on, and it didn’t take long after that for them to resort to throwing insults around. Shae was ready to fight basically everyone, to Ysaine’s endless amusement; Torian just looked so tired of everything; Khomo was standing on his chair for some reason; the Beroyas had already shattered four glasses of N’etra gal. Basically it was like every other Mandalorian function Staceasa had been to. She’d wrongly assumed that the Twi’lek was going to be the one to hold order; he just laughed as they bickered.

“If you think I’m so unqualified for the position, Vizla, why don’t you take it?” Khomo finally said in disgust after a few hours of ‘discussion’, shoving the table in Shae’s direction.

“I don’t want it, I just think-”

“That’s a good suggestion, actually,” Kelaari Farr interrupted, winking at Shae, “Khomo proved himself vastly inept in Keldabe. He’s an excellent warrior, but a dreadful leader. We need someone who takes charge in the face of disaster. Someone who can keep their head on straight-” there was a round of laughter around the room, the loudest from Ysaine, “- in times of crisis. Who can preserve the Mando’ade in our most dire hour.”

Heads all around the room turned to Shae, and Ysaine abruptly stopped laughing.

Vizla started to protest, “You’re not suggesting-”

“You’re a natural choice, Shae,” Kelaari explained, gesturing grandly around the room, “You took control of the ground troops after the Star Fortress exploded. You got us off that planet. We need that kind of level-headed leadership while we rebuild again.”

“I’ll second that motion,” Khomo cut in suddenly with a wide smirk on his face.

“Oh fuck,” Ysaine muttered, putting her head in her hands.

There was some discussion beyond that about Shae’s qualifications for the position, but even she seemed to come around on the idea. And as the final vote came in, it was unanimous: Shae Vizla was deemed Mand’alor the Avenger.

She stood on the table and addressed them all, “Mando’ade, vode! We have lost much in the last year. Our alliance with the Sith, our leader, our homeworld. It will take time and patience for us to rebuild and return to the galaxy at full force again, but I promise you we will do it. We will have our revenge on Zakuul. We will take the fight to them and we will show them the true might of our heroes! We will not back down! We will not be caught unaware again! We have lost our homeworld, but not our spirit! And I am proud to stand beside you and take the fucking galaxy back! _Mandalore is not a place! It is a people! And its people will be their downfall!_ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, Ysaine belongs to Defira!


	11. Light of Odessen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took almost a month to post! I promise I've not forgotten you all!
> 
> Minor warnings this chapter for mentions of violence and abuse.

_My love,_

_I’m here. Our apartment looks out at the Spire, and I cannot help but wonder where they are keeping you in that monstrosity. I know you’re in there. I hope you know that I’m out here, and that Rimea and I are finding a way in._

_There is a legend here, of the Lady of Sorrows; a woman who knows the past, present, and future of Zakuul, who can cause pain and suffering to any who oppose her. I am sure this is an old wives’ tale, perhaps grounded in truth centuries ago, but little more than wistful thinking now. I think of the Lady of Sorrows, and I think of the stories you told me. I don’t know how you remember them all from your childhood - all I remember are blurred faces, pale and drawn as a masked Sith took me from my home. It’s all ancient history now, like the stories of Revan and the old Mandalorians and the original Sith. Like the Lady of Sorrows. Some days, it feels like our last night together is ancient history. Or at least becoming so._

_But I will not wallow in self-pity any longer. I am closer to you now than I ever have been in the last four years, and I refuse to wait longer than I must. As soon as Arcann gives us an opening, we will be there._

_I will be there._

_L._

\---

The only similarity between Zakuul and Dromund Kaas was that it was dark. But while Dromund Kaas’ darkness came from cloud cover and perpetual rain, Zakuul’s darkness came from the shadows the towering skyscrapers threw on everything below them. It only got worse as one descended further down in the cities. It almost didn’t matter what the weather was like when one wandered the Old World - everything was dark, filthy, and reeked of human suffering. Even in the capital, it wasn’t hard to see that the people of Zakuul were struggling to live despite their Emperor’s opulence. There was fear in their eyes, as well. Skytroopers patrolled the sectors along with the famed Knights, keeping everything in order. Folks diverted their gaze, desperately attempting to keep the attention of the Knights off them. The Sith were a constant presence on Dromund Kaas, yes, but they weren’t beholden to a paranoid maniac’s fanciful whims. Well, perhaps that wasn’t true. At least they weren’t systematically patrolling every corner of the city.

It made Lana’s reconnaissance of the Spire a bit more difficult as she had to carefully maneuver around the patrols but without seeming obvious about it. She’d taken to descending into the Old World, where the patrols were far fewer and far less likely to notice her. She made deliberate, winding circles around the building that stood directly beneath the Spire. For obvious reasons, it was one of the few regularly guarded places in the Old World, a small patrol of skytroopers guarding its perimeter perpetually. It wasn’t a particularly noticeable building, really. Perhaps a bit wider, a bit sturdier than the others around it, but otherwise no indication of its importance to the world above. Lana squinted at the sign above the door, her Zakuulan passable but not perfect. She couldn’t decide if it was a bank or a specialty food market - both equally useless in these parts - so she took a moment to memorize the letters so she could look it up later.

She rolled her shoulders back to ease the tension in them; she and Rimea had been on Zakuul for nearly half a year, had seamlessly slipped into their society, and it felt good to be useful and doing things. But it was still six months where she had been in arms’ reach of her wife and unable to grasp or even see her. She couldn’t risk reaching out with the Force to touch Raelyn’s mind; even if Raelyn could answer, it was far too risky that someone would notice, especially when Lana was this close. She absently put her hand in her pocket and started twirling the ring around in her fingers.

“Fish tacos!” a local peddler cried, pushing his tiny stand around the street.

Lana’s stomach took the moment to grumble loudly.

She sighed and took three long strides to the vendor, signalling to him silently that she’d take an order. He happily obliged, flipping the crispy pieces of fish artistically on his spatula before sliding them gracefully into their soft corn shells. It took considerable effort for Lana to keep her eyes from rolling, but she slid him a few coins and took the basket of food gratefully, searching for an appropriate place to eat.

There was an empty bench not far from her, pushed against the wall of a building within eyesight of the building she’d been circling all morning. A dark shadow draped over half the bench, cast by a shabby-looking apartment complex. It would have to do. Lana perched carefully in the darkest part of the shadow, crossing one leg over the other, and bit into the taco. As she chewed, she pondered a way into the building in front of her. The Spire itself was connected to many other complexes, notably the sun reactor for the sector and a skytrooper factory. She wondered where the connection was between this building and the one above it. It didn’t really matter if it was a bank or a food mart or a salon, but it might be helpful to know which. Overwatch had gone to great lengths to make this building look unimportant, as if the patrols were random, but Lana knew better. And she also knew that almost no one went inside that building unless they were Knights or Overwatch security personnel. The Knights radiated Force energy; even when they were dressed in civilian garb, they were easy to spot. And the Overwatch employees all flashed their badges at the door as they enetered.

She watched as a civilian walked close to the building, not really even making a move to enter it, and two thugs jumped from the shadowy corners and attacked him. Her hand flew to where her lightsaber normally rested in her belt, but remembered as soon as her hand touched cloth that she shouldn’t draw attention to herself anyway. So she watched as the poor Zakuulan was beaten and mugged and left for dead a block away. Civilians of the Old World were not allowed anywhere near the place, which created another complication. Still, it was probably their best entrance, unless they stole some party invitation from a dignitary, which seemed both unlikely and more dangerous.

Lana straightened as another woman approached her, pulling her cowl over her forehead a bit more. She was dressed in a Knight’s white and silver armor, hair pulled back into a tight gray-streaked bun. Lana bristled a little and uncrossed her legs in case she needed to run. Knights didn’t need a reason to hurt folks down here, and Lana knew any number of people went missing after encountering Knights in situations like this.

“Do you mind if I join you?” the older woman asked, her voice soft and gentle for a Knight.

Lana just nodded vaguely, the last of her lunch in her mouth.

The Knight paused for a moment as if she was contemplating the Sith’s noncommittal answer, but carefully perched at the far end of the bench, light streaking across her worn face and reflecting off the silver beads in her forehead.

“The Old World has certainly lost some of its beauty, hasn’t it?” the Knight asked quietly. Lana wasn’t sure whether the question was really aimed at her or not, so she just nodded again.

It didn’t seem to dissuade the Knight, though, who continued, “I remember when there was order and stability here. When Valkorion-” Lana had to keep herself from seething at the very mention of the name “-used to send patrols through the streets regularly, kept the street free of filth. The Old World was his first success as a worldbuilder, you know. He planned the streets and buildings and zones. It used to be quite the sight.”

She looked over to Lana, pale blue eyes soft, her gaze hazy and nostalgic.

“But where are my manners,” she said suddenly, pulling her hand out of her glove and offering it to Lana, “I am Senya.”

The Sith nodded, hesitating for a moment before she took Senya’s hand in her own, “Lana.”

The Knight nodded, smiling softly. She reclined back on the bench and lifted her head up as she leaned against the wall behind them.

“It’s a pleasure, Lana. It isn’t too often folks down here are willing to sit beside a Knight for so long. I can’t even count the number of times I’ve sat next to someone and they just immediately jump up and sprint away.”

Lana felt her heart racing suddenly in her chest - had given herself away simply sitting here? Was Senya simply using this to point out that she knew something was amiss? Senya spoke as if she spent much time in the Old World, could she simply have recognized that Lana was not from here? What game was she playing?

“Most Knights threaten whomever they come across,” she replied evenly, betraying none of the fear that gripped her thoughts, “It is just as refreshing to meet one such as you.”

Senya smiled gently, but she closed her eyes tiredly, “I disagree with many of my brethren on that account. But now is perhaps not the time to delve into such matters. Tell me, Lana, you do not smell of decay and fear, what brings you to the Old World? Most people from the capital never venture down here.”

Dammit. She did figure it out.

“I lost my wife many years ago,” she replied slowly, carefully, though she’d had this lie constructed for months now, “I came to the Old World to find any trace of her, I suppose.”

Senya gave a shallow nod, almost imperceptible, “I apologize for prying. I, too, have lost a lover. Not to mobs or flames or blaster fire, of course, but all the same. Would you like to tell me about her? Your wife?”

Lana hesitated, “I have not spoken about her in a long time.”

“Mmm, easier to push her out of mind, I imagine, than continue to live in her shadow.”

Lana got the feeling that Senya spoke from experience. She relaxed, if only marginally. Senya was remarkably perceptive, but her intentions were not malicious, it seemed. She was an older woman who simply wanted to talk to another person, to get to know them. Lana, of course, could not divulge any of her true secrets or mission details, but she could spare an afternoon for Senya. It would do her well to have an ally among the Knight ranks.

“Yes,” she agreed, pulling the ring out of her pocket and running her finger around its edges again, “But perhaps I have been silent for too long. She deserves to live on, if only in memory.”

Senya perked up a little, crossed one of her legs over the other and folding her hands in her lap attentively. Lana averted her gaze, staring at a dark spot in the ground fervently, but felt the older woman’s eyes on her.

She continued slowly, “She was passionate, fiery, always ready for a fight. But she always fought against the odds, for the underdog, for those wronged by people in power.”

“Sounds like she should have been a lawyer,” Senya commented amusedly.

Lana chuckled, trying to envision Raelyn in a suit in a courtroom, spitting venom at whoever stood in her way, “She preferred action to discussion. She would jump down a mine shaft before she asked what was at the bottom. If at all possible, she would leave the planning to me and follow her own intuition, trusting that someone else could worry about the details as she went.”

Senya laughed, “I can relate to that. I hope her impulses were good.”

“Generally, yes,” Lana replied, wringing her hands together, “Though her impulsiveness was what… in the end...”

Even knowing that Raelyn had survived, that she was still alive in that tower - if only barely - Lana couldn’t say it. She couldn’t. Not now. She felt a hand touch her shoulder gently after a moment, and she looked over; Senya was nodding in understanding.

“My husband was the antithesis to your wife, it seems,” she explained, diverting the conversation enough that Lana could calm herself, “He was a magnificent planner. He was methodical, calculating, always preparing for the future. We did not share a visceral, carnal love, but what we had was… _special_. It was enough.”

Senya reached under her collar and pulled out a golden chain, two rings hanging from it. She slid the three pieces between her fingers as she continued, “But eventually, he became cold, distant. He abused our children, abused me, and he refused to listen to anything I said. There was one night when I couldn’t take it any longer. I took his ring with me and left him.”

“That sounds horrific,” Lana said, “I am sorry you had to endure that. Did your children escape with you?”

Senya closed her eyes and retreated a little, shaking her head, “No. They would not leave him. Even now they cling to his memory, four years after his death.”

“It seems many people were lost four years ago,” Lana commented under her breath.

Senya mused with a quiet laugh, “Look at us gossiping like children about Zakuul and Odessen."

Lana racked her brain for a moment, trying to determine if she should know what Odessen was, or what Senya meant by the statement. But she drew a blank.

The older woman seemed to be able to read her thoughts and explained, “Legends say that Zakuul is not the only planet in the system, that there is another - that which we call Odessen. Nobody knows how Odessen disappeared, only that it simply did.”

The Sith glanced at the Knight again. Legends were rarely what they claimed, true, but they almost always began with a kernel of truth. Assuming Odessen did exist, and was simply hidden from Zakuul somehow, an invisible planet this close could prove invaluable to the Alliance.

“How could a planet just… disappear?” she asked.

Senya shrugged, “Nobody knows. Some posture that it had something to do with the strength of the Force in its core. Some believe it is the punishment of the gods to take a world of beautiful green and plentiful resources from us when Zakuulans strayed too far from the path they’d prescribed. Then there are the more colorful bedtime stories about star-crossed lovers who crossed paths in orbit, fell in love, and then never saw each other again. Odessen was so distraught at never again seeing Zakuul that it simply vanished, wishing not to exist at all if not with their lover.”

Lana smiled genuinely, “Well, I am certainly glad you did not take the path of Odessen after you left your husband, Senya.”

“The honor is mine, Lana. I did not imagine I would sit on this bench with a friend today.”

Lana felt her heart swell at little, nearly asking Senya to join them then and there. But she stopped herself. Senya was friendly, yes, but Lana couldn’t afford to take unnecessary risks. And if she never saw Senya again, but felt Raelyn in her arms because of it, she could certainly live with that and not think twice about her decision. She pocketed her ring again and pushed herself to her feet, “I should head home for the evening. Thank you, Senya.”

The Knight nodded, and reached out to Lana with her hand. Lana went to shake it, but this time, Senya deposited the chain and rings into her palm, “Thank you, Lana. For staying with me. For showing me that perhaps it is time I let go of these… trinkets.”

“I cannot possibly-”

“Please,” Senya pleaded quietly, curling her fingers into Lana’s palm, “Please take them. They aren’t even our wedding bands.”

Lana nodded silently, tucking the chain and rings into the pocket with Raelyn’s ring.

“Go well,” Senya said with a bow of her head.

“You, as well,” the Sith replied, disappearing around the corner before she hurried back to Rimea.

\---

Zakuul was actually a beautiful planet in its own way. Its soaring towers and streets rose thousands of feet above the swamps and the Old World, the Spire chiefest among them, rising even higher than the rest. Prominently placed in the center of the capital, the tower seemed to go on endlessly into the sky, the sphere of the throne room barely visible from the streets below. Although the Spire itself was omnipresent, the throne room seemed so small from street level, practically the size of the head of a needle. Save that it was always in the center of the Eternal Fleet, which hung in the sky surrounding it, it would hardly look like a threatening seat of power. But the ships were intimidating, to say the least. And as they floated just beyond the atmosphere of Zakuul, they, too, were omnipresent, just as much as the Spire. A constant reminder of the pain its ruler could inflict at any given time. Be it to Zakuulans themselves, or people elsewhere in the galaxy, Arcann threatened to destroy anything that opposed him.

He was a lunatic, a possessed madman obsessed with the legacy of his father. It would have been so easy to turn Zakuul into a force for good and peace in the galaxy after Valkorion’s supposed death. But that was a lot to ask of a man who’d known nothing in his life but betrayal and pain.

Rimea hated that she felt she could relate to the psychopath who’d called himself Emperor and imprisoned her sister. She hated that she could picture the torment he was going through, trying to be better than his father but knowing nothing other than his own humiliation. She sighed; empathy was a difficult weight to carry on days like this.

She nodded vaguely at the merchant, handing him a few coins, taking the fruit off the scales, and gently placing them in the bottom of her bag.

“Did ya hear?” she heard someone behind her, immediately slipping back into her old habits and eavesdropping, “The Lady of Sorrows is running the Old World! They say she’s in charge of the Order of Zildrog now! Uses them to do her bidding!”

“I heard she’s also bedding the Emperor,” someone else said, this time in a hushed whisper, “that she’s getting into his inner circle so she can usurp the throne.”

“ _No_!” the first speaker replied incredulously, “Does the Emperor know?”

“Who knows?” the second speaker said, “The Emperor hasn’t addressed us in weeks. She might have already usurped and is secretly in control now. Why else would he deny us his presence?”

“Esne above! My sister works in the Spire, I have to make sure she knows!”

Rimea shut her eyes slowly and shook her head, moving out of earshot of the two men and weaving through the market crowd. She took the scenic route back to the apartment, strolling through the public gardens, picking a few herbs from the communal grounds, and continuing through the back alleys.

Their apartment wasn’t lavish, but it was homey enough. As close to home as she’d had in the last four years, at any rate. T7 had taken an unusual interest in decorating the place, and it seemed the little droid had been exceptionally fond of greenery; practically every corner had a plant of some kind. And it seemed every time she came home, there was another plant in the kitchen.

“Good morning, Tee-seven,” she greeted as she entered, waving absently to the astromech droid.

He beeped happily in response.

“I’ll be over in a minute,” she replied, “Just let me put the groceries away.”

T7 was in the far corner of the room, farthest from the door and windows, where they’d set up their terminal. The base model they brought piece-meal from Manaan, breaking down the parts into pieces just big enough to fit in their packs. There were a dozen additions to the machine now, all bought at various markets in the city and the Old World. Lana rarely used it, spending much of her time gathering information on Zakuulan culture and the layout and security of the Spire, so it was set up to Rimea’s preferences.

The Lady of Sorrows needed a good computer terminal, after all.

It certainly wasn’t her most unpleasant cover. The Lady had its perks, after all. Alms were given to her by folks - mostly of the Old World, but the from the capital, as well - which provided her and Lana a means of income. Rumors abounded so widely about her whereabouts and deeds that it was easy to prod a few of the more outrageous ones and discourage some of the more truthful ones. Rimea felt a little too much like Scorpio to be entirely comfortable with the situation, taking the hard earned money of folks and using it against them. She could rationalize all she wanted that taking Arcann down a peg would be good for Zakuul, too, but the fact remained that he was their leader, their Emperor. Toppling him from power would likely take Zakuul out of galactic politics, and their wealth and trade would dwindle.

She shook her head to clear it and shut the last cabinet door.

“Alright, let’s take a look,” she said, sliding into the seat at the terminal, beside T7.

It pulled up a series of numbers on the screen, sequences of 28, 35, and 42 two-digit numbers. T7 highlighted a few of series and chirped excitedly.

Rimea’s eyes widened. The link they needed.

At the same moment, the door flung open and Lana rushed inside, her cowl nearly blown off her face.

“We need to leave,” she commanded, nearly silently but authoritatively, “ _Now_.”

Rimea stood up, knowing better than to ask questions when Lana was like this. Or interrupt her with good news. Instead, she quickly shut down the terminal and took to taking it apart piece by piece. T7 whined sadly about leaving all the plants behind, but they simply didn’t have enough time to pack and carry them. The terminal was likely too much as it was.

She looked to Lana, who was hastily throwing their few personal belongings - including a pair of black market blasters - into a duffle bag. The Sith’s eyes were clearer and brighter than they had been on Manaan, but there was something wild in them, too. Her hair had grown out a bit, straightening as it hit her shoulders, and her gray armor was entirely practical. Pragmatic. But her eyes betrayed her, and Rimea knew it, even if she never brought it up. Best not to bring up a Sith’s emotions when they were emotional.

“I have a warehouse in the Old World we can use,” Rimea offered instead, “A bit close to the Order of Zildrog camp, but far enough away from any law enforcement.”

“Good, go there,” Lana replied.

Rimea paused, “You make that sound like you’re not coming.”

Lana didn’t even look up, singularly focused on the pile of clothes in her hands, clutching them strongly, “I cannot stay. I have found a place where the Alliance can set up a permanent base. And my presence here threatens your entire operation. I cannot risk that.”

“Lana…”

“Please don’t,” she breathed, her hands shaking, “As much as it pains me, it must be this way. I will return, but I cannot be here while you work.”

Rimea stood and crossed the room, kneeling in front of the Sith and embracing her, “We’re almost there, Lana.”

She sniffled quietly and nodded against Rimea’s shoulder, “I know. That is why I must go before something goes wrong.”

It took about a day for the three of them to move down into the Old World. Rimea’s warehouse was really an abandoned luxury apartment complex, but it was easier and safer to call it that than the Razor. It also made her cringe somewhat less to refer to it as a warehouse. The Old World wasn’t nearly as beautiful as the capital, since there wasn’t much imperial funding that went into it, but even the Old World was better than its underbelly; it was run down, culled by thieves, stripped of life by cults and guilds. All of the roads felt like alleys, dirty and littered with trash and human waste. There was no straight path anywhere down here, and around any corner might be an ambush. Lana hesitated to use her lightsaber which would blow their cover immediately, but she had no qualms about thrashing a few thugs with her hands and using the Force to fling them against walls. Rimea tried not to hear the bones cracking.

Fortunately, whatever passed for law down here didn’t seem to notice or care that two human females and an astromech were moving heavy technical equipment into the Razor. Or that they’d killed or maimed about a dozen thugs on the way. That suited Rimea just fine.

Lana paused outside the building for a moment, chuckling to herself.

Rimea looked at her, “What?”

The Sith shook her head, “Just the advertisement. ‘Live on the cutting edge of luxury in the Razor.’ It seems a bit ridiculous.”

“The pun? Or the fact that it’s fifty years out of date and now home to more rats than people?”

“Take your pick,” she replied with a shrug, stepping inside and putting down her bags with a huff, “I have to leave now, Rimea. I apologize I cannot help you piece the terminal back together. But if I have any hope of punching through the-”

“You don’t have to,” Rimea interrupted, her earlier revelation almost forgotten in the chaos of the move, “I’ve figured out the security clearance codes.”

Lana eyed her silently.

“We thought the security codes were generated at random, changing at random intervals of the day, but they don’t! They’re based on a seven scale, rotating-”

“You know the clearance codes? You’re positive?”

Rimea nodded vehemently, “We should be able to get through the blockade.”

Lana wrapped her cowl over her face tighter, “Now is as good a time as any to see if you’re right. I will comm you when I am ready to take off.”

“Be safe, Lana,” Rimea said with a nod.

“May the Force ever serve you,” Lana replied before she rounded the corner and fled down the dark street.

Rimea prayed to every god she could think of that she was right.

\---

“My dad used to tell us about this planet,” he said, knocking a branch out of the way, “Said its got some kind of balance to it that nowhere else in the galaxy’s got. That’s why you can’t place it on an orbital map.”

Raj frowned as he focused on his footing on the rocky slope, “Yeah? He the one who told you to find parts for the Gravestone here, too?”

Koth laughed warmly, sending shots of heat through Raj’s belly, “Nah, that was a hunch my grandma told me, and the planet readings confirmed. It should be on the other side of this ravine.”

Raj looked down at Koth’s “ravine” and gasped. How the hell did they get so high? And so close to the edge of this cliff? He’d been so distracted by finding the right footing and listening to the Zakuulan’s voice that he hadn’t even noticed. For a moment Raj wanted absolutely nothing to do with this ship anymore. He wanted to go back the way he came, back to his own ship, smuggling safe things like food and blankets to refugees. But Koth turned around and offered him his hand.

“You doin’ alright?” he asked, dark eyes boring into Raj’s.

He took the pilot’s hand and pulled himself up to the edge shakily.

“You look a little worse for wear,” Koth commented gently, handing him a canteen and sitting on a boulder looking over the ravine.

“Not a big fan of heights,” Raj admitted hoarsely, slowly easing onto the rock beside his companion.

Koth laughed again, quieter this time, “I told you you could stay on the ship.”

Raj swallowed the water in his mouth and put the cap back on the canteen, “You also said the part we needed was three times your height and weight. Wasn’t gonna let you break your back because I don’t like cliffs.”

“Ahh, so your altruism beats your phobias, huh?”

Raj passed the canteen back to Koth, his hands shaking harder when the other man’s brushed against them, “I guess.”

Koth took a drink from the canteen, and the only thought in Raj’s head was that they’d now shared spit and that was pretty a much a kiss, right?

He shook his head.

“You alright?” Koth asked again, clearly having noticed.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m good,” Raj lied, hoping he wasn’t blushing too hard, “Just… just trying to shake the fear out.”

“Did it work?”

Raj looked over the edge of the cliff and his head started spinning immediately, “Nope. Not even a little bit.”

He clenched his eyes shut and reached out his hands for anything to steady himself. His left hand found the boulder, but his right was grasped by Koth’s. It was warm, the skin rough and calloused, holding onto him tightly.

“Whoa, there, easy,” Koth soothed, gently pulling Raj back, “We’ll take the rest of it slow, alright?”

The only thought more frightening than “the rest of it” was taking his hand out of Koth’s. Koth was the only person he trusted at this point to get him over this ravine alive. Fortunately, it didn’t seem like Koth was in any hurry to take his hand out of Raj’s either.

“Let me know when you’re ready,” he said gently, apparently not at all upset or surprised or dismissive of Raj’s predicament.

Raj’s heart ached in his chest a little more.

And then it started to vibrate. Vibrate? Koth was holding his hand not shaking him, why the hell-?

By the time he saw them it was too late; two ships came up over the horizon, a little shuttle big enough for two or three people at most, and a larger ship about the size of his own. The little one seemed to be leading, and they both landed on the plateau about a hundred meters from where Raj and Koth sat. The engines rustled the smaller rocks beneath their feet, the rumbling nearly shaking them off the rock they sat on. The two men turned around and drew their blasters instinctively, crouching behind the boulder now. Raj tried not to think about how close his feet were to the edge.

The hatches to the ships opened at the same time; a blonde woman leaped out of the shuttle, her grey armor about the only other thing Raj could spot from where they were. And a dozen or so people filed out of the larger ship. Most of them were human, but there was one Togruta among them.

A far older woman appeared over the edge of the far side of the cliff, apparently coming to meet them. The blonde woman immediately ignited a scarlet lightsaber and Raj flinched instinctively.

“They don’t look like Knights,” Koth whispered.

“They’re not,” Raj replied, “That one’s a Sith.”

There was a red headed woman from the other ship who put a hand out to the blonde woman, apparently urging her to put her weapon away. The blonde sheathed her laser sword, but kept the hilt in her hands. The other woman went forward to embrace the older woman, taking her hands in hers. Raj couldn’t see the face of the younger woman, and he couldn’t hear what she was saying either, but judging from the older woman, they’d known each other. It didn’t take long for the group to begin conversing, the Sith and the redhead apparently in charge as they addressed the rest of the group and pointed to landmarks and a few of the others made notes on datapads.

“Should we go?” Koth asked, one hand on the ground like he was ready to run.

Raj shook his head, “That Sith’ll notice-”

Four lightsabers extended simultaneously in their direction, and Raj swallowed hard.

Koth stood immediately, dragging Raj behind him, “Sorry! Didn’t mean to startle you! We’re not here to harm you!”

“Koth, they could kill us with a thought,” Raj grunted.

“Doesn’t hurt to be polite,” Koth retorted quietly before he addressed the group again, “Can we approach?”

Three of the lightsabers went away, only the Sith’s remaining engaged. The red haired woman nodded, and Raj could see now that her lightsaber doubled as a walking staff. Pretty ingenious, actually. He wondered if it would seem as ingenious pressed against his throat.

“Come over,” the woman called.

Koth flashed a cautious grimace to Raj, who clenched his fists to keep them from acting of their own accord and reaching for the man beside him. They stopped about ten feet in front of the group.

“Who are you?” the Sith snarled, reluctantly sheathing her lightsaber for the second time.

Koth and Raj looked at each other, but it was Raj who answered first, “We are, uh, mechanics. There’s a special ship part on this plateau that we’re getting.”

That was probably the dumbest thing he could have said.

“You are the worst liar I have ever met,” the older human man dressed in a white lab coat sighed, his Imperial accent refined but obvious, “Not even the Black Sun would believe that.”

“Actually,” the man in the red jacket said, “I was getting some pretty funky material readings from over here… It might be part of a ship.”

The red haired Jedi stepped forward and took Koth’s and Raj’s hands in hers, sending a shiver down Raj’s back. She looked in his eyes like she’d recognized him, but he was fairly certain he’d never met her, and just as certain that the Jedi weren’t on the list of people who wanted his head.

“You’re Rajamari Politryk,” she said quietly, “Raelyn’s brother.”

The name sent him reeling, stumbling backwards for a moment before the Jedi pulled him back up.

“I’m Kalina Lornacch,” she introduced just as quietly, “Raelyn is a dear friend.”

The wind whistled over the plateau, making the awkward silence at least a little dramatic.

“Raelyn Politryk is the Outlander who killed Valkorion,” Koth realized, his tone unreadable apart from his surprise. Raj cringed.

Kalina looked to Koth, “It’s a bit more complicated than that, but as the galaxy knows it, yes. I’ve seen your face before. You’re a Zakuulan officer?”

Koth met her eyes, searching them for about ten seconds before he made a decision, “ _Former_ Zakuulan Navy Captain. Koth Vortena.”

Kalina looked him up and down, “You defected on Denon?”

Oh she was a smooth one. In the span of about twenty seconds she’d all but figured out their life stories. Raj wanted to scream, wanted to melt into a puddle, wanted to throw himself off a cliff. But Koth stood tall, evidently finding something in the Jedi’s eyes that he could trust. He didn’t frequently throw his name around or share his history. So Raj stood with him.

“You said you’re looking for a part for a ship? For the Gravestone?” she asked.

“How the hell could you know that?”

She smiled knowingly, “Noghea Corripere. You asked for her help, yes?”

The seven fucking suns of Corellia, of course it was Ghea. Couldn’t keep her mouth shut if you paid her to in solid gold. Koth looked over to Raj, who sighed.

Kalina smiled more broadly, “Come, I’ll introduce you to the others.”

There were seven of them total. Four Jedi, one Sith, a retired Imperial spy, and one SIS Agent. Raj forgot their names as soon as Kalina said them, so he mentally assigned them names of his own. Blondie the Sith wanted to drill holes into his head with her eyes, but she had apparently defected from the Empire. As had Doc Lock, the retired Imperial spy. The Old Woman was apparently someone important to the Jedi that everyone thought was dead. Sass the Togruta was tiny, but his scowl scared the bejeesus out of Raj. Then there was the Sarkhai, who seemed very protective of Kalina, but kept her distance. And the SIS Agent, whose name sounded like so many others he’d heard throughout the galaxy. Th-theorn? Therat? Thorn? Something like that.

Actually, it seemed like all of them had defected in some way or another from either the Republic or Empire. But that just raised more questions.

“Koth, what do you know about this planet?” Kalina asked gently.

The pilot put his hand to his chin, “Not much. I know it’s got something going on that makes it difficult to track on a map. Temperate climate mostly, except for the poles. I know there’s a part for the Gravestone here. I know it’s in the same system as Zakuul. I know there are some legends about star-crossed lovers that probably aren’t true enough to bear repeating.”

“Any native settlements?”

Koth shook his head, “Not that I know of. But I haven’t spent a lot of time here.”

“How long have you two been here?” Doc Lock asked suspiciously, more like he was running an interrogation than asking a curiosity question.

“A day or so,” Koth replied, giving the agent a steely glare.

“The Force is strong here, but it is… odd,” the Sarkhai commented, “It isn’t light or dark, but it’s hiding something.”

Blondie the Sith nodded shortly, “The Force is completely in balance here, and so strong that it hides the entire planet. As far as Zakuul knows, Odessen has vanished completely.”

Doc Lock looked to the smugglers again, side-eyeing them critically, “And yet you two knew exactly how to get here… _Interesting_.”

“We came here mostly by accident,” Raj explained, “We were just following the readings from the parts we needed. Ended up being on just the other side of this plateau, so if we could just-”

“By accident, you say?”

“That’s enough, Eckard,” Kalina cut him short, “We’re not interrogating them. They are _not_ our enemies.”

Koth looked over to Raj, very poorly trying to hide the worry in his brow. They had landed here by accident, yes. And neither of them had any desire to report back to Zakuul about whatever cult this was. But they weren’t just hapless wanderers, either. The Jedi seemed to know that and accept it, but it still made Raj uneasy that they’d somehow all ended up in the same place. Damn Force wizards.

“We still need to determine a place suitable to build a base,” she was explaining, “Satele, could you take Maraalor, Theron, Eckard, and Nadia and show them around the area? Lana and I will help these two get their parts safely to their ship.”

The other five nodded, apparently used to taking orders from Kalina, and descended into the forest beyond. Kalina waited patiently for them to be out of earshot before she started the trek to the far side of the plateau, leaning on her staff-lightsaber as she walked. Raj wondered what injury had caused that. Which war it came from.

“Lana, can you get these two the codes to break the Zakuulan barricade?” she asked, “They’ll need them in order to deliver parts to Noghea and Aelacc.”

The Sith just nodded curtly, “I will send a transmission to Rimea through Holiday and let her know.”

Another name Raj hadn’t heard in a decade. A name from a past life, a life that wasn’t his own. He couldn’t even bring himself to ask how she was, what she’d been doing since he’d defected. There were so many rumors about her - about both of his sisters, actually - that he had no idea which ones were true. None of them were happy stories, though. He brought a hand to his face, rubbing the mist from his eyes and the shame from his thoughts. Koth reached for his hand as he lowered it again, his expression clearly asking Raj if he was okay. He just nodded a little.

Kalina stopped in her tracks about twenty paces from the ship parts. “Gentlemen,” she said, “I’d like to offer you a place in our alliance. We are clearly working towards similar goals, and I imagine you two would like a chance to tear down Arcann’s reign.”

“We are a group of individuals from various backgrounds,” Lana continued, apparently unsurprised by this turn of events, “And we could certainly use two smugglers who abide by their conscience. Especially a Zakuulan military officer and the brother of the Lord Wrath.”

“Oh, I hardly think I count as her brother by this point-” Raj replied quickly, taking a step back, only to be pulled forward again by Koth.

The man had fire in his eyes, and Raj’s heart stopped.

“What do you want with Zakuul?” Koth asked, “You say you want to tear down Arcann’s reign? Is that it? What happens after? Your alliance rules in his stead?”

“Zakuul is a casualty in Arcann’s war, just as much as Denon and Mandalore,” Lana replied, her eyes steely, “I’ve seen the way people live there, in constant fear, a great number in poverty. We do not have an interest in ruling Zakuul. Our enemy is not even Zakuul itself.”

Koth looked from Lana to Kalina, “So what is your ultimate goal?”

Oh sweet mother of shit, he was serious. Koth was seriously considering joining this absurd venture. And he was dragging Raj with him. Oh, god fuck. Fucking shit.

“Our ultimate goal is to rid the galaxy of a man who wants to see the galaxy die,” Kalina explained, “We know him as Vitiate, the former Sith Emperor. But he has another name to you. Valkorion.”

His eyes widened and he squeezed Raj’s hand hard, “Valkorion’s _alive_!? That’s great! He can help us!”

“Did you not listen to a word she just said?” Lana asked threateningly, and Raj couldn’t help but agree with her, “The man wants to end all life! And not just in the Sith Empire or Republic! He won’t stop until all the galaxy, the universe, is devoid of it! I don’t think he’s going to help.”

Kalina put out a hand gently between the two of them, “We would like nothing more than to see Zakuul thrive, Koth. Methods aside, we have a common goal there. Arcann is making life both on Zakuul and around the galaxy miserable. We must start with him.”

He nodded, “Agreed. I’m in. While we stop Arcann, I’ll prove to you that Valkorion can help us.”

Kalina smiled, unperturbed by Koth’s slightly different motivation and enthusiasm, “Wonderful. Raj? What about you?”

Koth squeezed his hand again, dark gaze boring into him, his pleas so fervent he could practically hear them aloud. Raj shut his eyes and swallowed hard, absolutely positive he was going to regret this later.

“Yeah, I’m in.”


	12. The Smugglers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warnings for mentions of child abuse at the very end

_Raelyn,_

_Strange circumstances make for strange bedfellows, it seems. I am not entirely sure why it seems far stranger to be travelling with your brother than it did with the Barsen’thor of the Jedi, but it certainly does. Perhaps because he looks much like you, has the same mannerisms as you, the same ability to weave a story. Raj seems to spend most of his time telling stories of various levels of truth. Some I even remember you telling me, though I have not pointed this out to him. He closes himself off if you are ever mentioned in conversation, as if your continued existence reminds him of something shameful he once did. I remember you once telling me that he defected from the Empire shortly after you were brought to the Sith Academy. But I do not understand why this brings him such torment, not when he clearly still hates the Sith._

_We’ve also added a Zakuulan formally to our ranks. Ironic, isn’t it? Koth Vortena. Former Zakuulan Navy. He is still fiendishly loyal to Valkorion, despite my protestations that he is a planet destroyer, and yet despite that glaring disparity, our goals are compatible. And he is likeable, even if it would be far easier if he wasn’t. He’s rather… cheerful most of the time. He seems to have this uncanny ability to bring metaphorical sunshine with him wherever he goes. Though it is difficult to ignore the underlying distress he feels when he sleeps and lets his guard down. I know Raj can sense this, as well. He may not have the same abilities with the Force as you do, but he is just as perceptive._

_At any rate, our next mission is to gather the remaining parts needed to repair the Gravestone. Koth insists that this Gravestone will be key to defeating Arcann, and while I am skeptical of this, three members of the Alliance have already been sent to begin the reparations. Even if this Gravestone isn’t as powerful as Koth claims, it will serve us well to have a ship ready for our escape when you are rescued._

_Do not ever think that rescue isn’t coming, my love. I promise you I am more committed to that now than I ever have been._

_My everlasting love,_  
_Lana_

\---

“I still can’t believe _your sister_ killed Valkorion,” Koth muttered for the hundredth time.

Raj just sighed, “It’s not like I’ve seen her in more than a decade. She doesn’t exactly keep me apprised of her escapades.”

“I know, I know,” the other man replied, “But still. You could have said something.”

“And what good would that have done?” Lana interrupted as she entered the room, “You still needed supplies for your friends, he still would have delivered them, the skytroopers still would have attacked, and you both would still be here. Valkorion isn’t even dead, he has simply found another host on which to leech.”

“Thank Scyva for that, at least,” Koth replied caustically, and the anger from Lana’s glare was immense. It was surprising and incredible that Lana restrained herself from actually murdering him where he sat.

Raj had the good sense to refrain from replying aloud, lying back down on the couch and throwing a small ball in the air and catching it. The air between him and Koth had been tense since that revelation came about on Odessen. But he hadn’t left yet, so that was a good sign. Of course, Valkorion technically wasn’t really dead, either, which was somewhat problematic all around. Better not to think about that.

The smuggler coughed awkwardly, “So, uh… how long until we reach Arron Prime?”

“Two standard hours.”

He swung his feet off the couch and set them on the floor, “Should probably start getting ready, then. Who knows what we’ll find when we land.”

He looked back at Koth for a second as he left the room, and for the briefest moment their eyes locked. Deep, rich brown met with bright, sparkling green, and Raj felt rooted to the spot.

Lana cleared her throat on her way past back to the cockpit.

Raj nearly had a heart attack at the noise, but managed to calm his racing heart - at least mostly - as he headed for the crew quarters. As the captain of this fine vessel, he slept and kept his things in his own room, but there wasn’t a safe in there (he wondered now why he never felt the need to install one and added it to the mental list of upgrades he needed to start working on) so he had to retrieve his weapons from the other room.

The door slid open and immediately the smell of _Koth_ hit him smack in the face, nearly knocking him over. Musty leather and metal and oil should not combine to make him feel so lightheaded. Not that he was feeling lightheaded from the smell of the other man on board. No, no. He wasn’t lightheaded at all. His vision was just a little splotchy for a moment, and he couldn’t really feel his face. Everything was fine.

He cautiously took three steps into the room, doing his damnedest not to look at the rustled sheets and the pajamas strewn across the bed. _Fuck_ , why didn’t he install a safe in his own quarters??? This hadn’t been an issue when Akaavi and Guss were around!

As he opened the safe, he realized how much he missed them. Of course, he was overjoyed when Akaavi told him she’d found a new family, a group of Mandalorians she could trust and love. And he’d been excited for Guss when he’d announced he was going to Nar Shaddaa to continue his Force training, even if Raj wasn’t particularly convinced he’d be any good at it, or that his teacher wouldn’t kill him. He was proud of them, proud to call them friends, and proud that they’d found their own way in this galaxy. But the ship did seem to miss something without their bickering.

“Hey, you alright?”

Raj stiffened immediately, realizing a wayward tear had threatened in his right eye. Sentimental little shit.

He nodded, trying not to look at Koth as he stood in the doorway, “Yeah, yeah. Just… just thinking about old friends, I guess.”

“That why you’ve been avoiding me lately, too?”

“What?” he had to look now, lifting his head to meet the gaze of the other man, “I thought we were mutually avoiding each other?”

Koth’s face scrunched in confusion and he crossed his arms over his chest, “Why would we be doing that?”

Raj put his blasters on the floor gently and gestured vaguely, “Y’know… my sister killed your Emperor… or something.” _Nice save, dude. Excellent. Very suave._

Koth just burst out a laugh and Raj hated how much he relaxed immediately, “You think I’m _mad_ at you for that? Is that why you’ve been looking at me funny since we got back from Odessen?”

“Well, uh, it’s been… tense? Between us. Did I do something else?”

Koth shook his head, and it looked like he was blushing, “I’m not mad at you. Quite the opposite, actually.”

Raj tilted his head, “You’re… _happy_ with me? Because my sister killed your emperor?”

“ _Scyva no_ ,” he replied, burying his face in his hands.

“I… don’t get it,” Raj admitted.

“Y’know what, just forget I said anything,” Koth said, and Raj thought that sounded like a spectacular idea at the moment, “Just... I’m not mad at you. You don’t have to avoid me.”

There was a little moment of silence before Raj pushed himself up, squeaking a little when he felt Koth take his hand and help bear his weight. The other man just smiled warmly, lighting up the entire room.

Koth wasn’t mad at him, but that tension was still there. Maybe it just took a little time for it to bleed away? But no, as he stood across from him, so close he could practically feel Koth’s breaths on his cheeks, that tension just seemed to increase. Although neither of them had any inclination to separate.

“Wait,” Raj let out, and before Koth retreated, he pulled him back in and continued, “If you’re not mad at me, and I’m not mad at you, this is….?”

“ _Oh._ ”

“ _Oh._ ”

They both stared at each other for a long silent moment, letting the revelation sink in, and it was Raj who finally moved. He cupped Koth’s cheek in his free hand, asking silently for permission to continue. Raj felt him nod a little in his palm, and he slowly brought his lips to Koth’s, squeezing his hand as they kissed. Koth’s hand rested gingerly on Raj’s hip at first, sliding up to his waist as they pressed closer together. His mouth tasted like Zakuulan spices, and the stubble on his chin tickled, and their noses collided more than once, but it hardly even mattered. Raj was _kissing_ Koth. Kissing him! Ha! After months of traveling with him and praying to every god he knew that these feelings wouldn’t end in disaster, he was standing here, in his ship, in the crew quarters, and _he was kissing Koth Vortena._

Their mouths separated a few minutes later, and they were both a little breathless. Koth’s eyes sparkled in the low light of the room, absolutely dazzling and beautiful.

“You’re… you’re good at that,” Koth confessed with a grin, “We’ll have to do it again sometime.”

Raj laughed, “Oh, you’re smooth, Vortena. I just gave you my best and you’re still lucid enough to drop those lines on me.”

“Guess that just means we’ll need more practice,” Koth replied, gently pressing their foreheads together.

All it took was a little tilt of his head to kiss him again, and stars, what a rush it was to feel Koth’s surprise, to feel his hand clench a little on Raj’s waist and his lips press on his own desperately.

“If you two are quite finished,” Lana’s dry voice wafted from the doorway, although Raj swore she was enjoying this, “the landing sequences could use a few more hands in the cockpit.”

Raj’s hands and face still tingled as he sat beside Koth in the cockpit a moment later, still feeling the warmth in his belly and the huge idiot grin on his face that he couldn’t keep down if he tried.

As they navigated through layers of thick brown clouds, it was abundantly clear that this wasn’t going to be a pleasant adventure.

Arron Prime was, quite literally, dirty. The whole planet was a dark brown, almost entirely unsuitable for life at all. There was a single settlement on the near side, about three clicks from some sort of forest, but once they broke through the atmosphere, it didn’t appear to be a forest at all, really. Bare tree trunks twisted in the air, as if they’d desperately fought for the minerals in the air. And what wasn’t covered in dirt was sheer rock face; twisting labyrinths of canyons and ravines, plateaus and mountains. It could have been a beautiful place if there were signs of life literally anywhere.

“Damn, that’s ugly,” Raj commented under his breath.

“Mmm wasn’t a planet I ever had the misfortune of visiting,” Koth noted beside him, “Might not have suggested coming if I’d known.”

“If you two could stop commenting on the scenery and focus on getting us down there undetected, that would be greatly appreciated,” Lana muttered through the headset. She’d stationed herself in the turret bay, having one of those weird Sith gut feelings that they’d need it.

Koth frowned next to him and tapped the proximity screen a couple times.

“What’s up?” Raj asked.

“Lana,” he said into the headset, “We’ve got company.”

“Already on it!” she replied with a huff, and the ship rocked as she shot whatever was following them.

Raj gripped the navigation controls, and Koth flipped switches to engage the ship’s shields.

“What the hell is shooting at us?! There’s nothing here but ravines and cliffs and fricken _dirt_.”

The ship rocked a little harder as something big bounced off the shield.

Lana’s strained voice crackled over the headset as she took another shot at one of them, “Judging by the size and shape, I’d say-”

“They’re kriffin skytroopers!” Koth exclaimed as one of the pods shot uncomfortably close by the front of the ship, “We’ve gotta lose them.”

“For fuck’s sake, come on, girl,” Raj muttered at the dashboard, “Alright, buckle up! This is gonna get bumpy!”

Another pod ricocheted off the ship, like they were trying to land on it. But Raj didn’t have the time to ask why the fuck they’d try to land on his ship. He banked hard to the right, aiming for a canyon where he could outmaneuver them. Two pods crashed into each other and exploded in the sky, the energy propelling them forward faster than Raj was ready for. Koth was working furiously beside him to equalize the thrusters and engines through the blast, and it took all of Raj’s skill to keep the whole ship from crashing into the rock wall. As it was, he still heard and felt a painful scratching on the port side of the hull.

“A little to the left if you could!”

“Lana!”

She just snorted and three more shots ejected, hitting their targets. At least one of them was having fun.

He rounded a corner, watching as another pod crashed into the rock cliff face and left a cloud of fire and dust in its wake. By the time Raj actually saw the boulder-sized debris raining down from the impact, it was too late. One of them cracked the hull on the starboard side and he heard one of the engines sputter in the back.

“Koth!”

“On it!” he replied, already sliding out of his chair.

“It’s too late!” Lana said, rounding the corner into the cockpit, apparently having abandoned her post in the turret, “Raj, you must land!”

The ship teetered and tilted dangerously as the engine gave out, and it took all of Raj’s energy just to keep it from spinning wildly into the bottom of the canyon. See, this is why he hated heights. But he could see the end of the canyon, the start of the weird undead forest, and he was committed to making it that far, so he kept the ship from fishtailing wildly as he guided it through. Koth attempted to keep the engine power even enough that they wouldn’t start spinning again, though as soon as Raj got them out of the canyon, he powered all the engines off and prayed that the trees wouldn’t smash them to bits. It wasn’t like they were going to land casually now.

“Come on, baby, come on,” he urged the ship under his breath.

He tipped the nose of the ship down so it would hit the dirt, and as they crashed and skidded to a halt in front of the forest, nearly half the ship was covered in the stuff.

“Everyone alright?” Raj asked, looking to Koth beside him and then to Lana behind.

"That was not the most pleasant landing I've endured,” Lana said with a hand to the back of her neck, “Perhaps we should seek out a better pilot while we’re here."

Raj pouted, "You're welcome, Lana. If I wasn't such a crack pilot we could've hit the canyon wall or one of the freaky trees."

"Yes, our current situation is a vast improvement.”

Koth put out his hands to them, “Alright, alright, let’s figure out where we are and where to go before we get at each other’s throats, alright?”

Lana harrumphed and exited the cockpit without another word, though it was hard to miss the sound of grating metal as she blew out the back wall of the ship. Raj cringed. Hadn’t his poor ship suffered enough already?

Another metal sheet peeled off the starboard side as if to make a point.

Once they were all outside, Lana crossed her arms over her chest, declaring, “We’ll have to finish burying it.”

Raj had his hand on the hull and he looked to her, “What!? Why? This is my ship we can’t just bury it!”

“Actually, that sounds like the best plan,” Koth replied quietly, slinging a backpack over his shoulders and putting a hand gently on Raj’s back, “There are bound to be more skytroopers up there. Who knows if they were looking for us or just looking to board whoever comes into the atmosphere, but either way this’ll stand out like a sore thumb.”

“‘This’!? ‘ _This_ ’ is the best ship in the kriffin galaxy and I am not going to leave her behind!”

Lana just sighed and closed her eyes, spreading her hands and willing the dirt to move aside with her mind.

The ship creaked and pitched downward a little, and Raj jumped back, “Hey! We aren’t done discussing this! I do not condone this plan of action!”

“Your opinion hardly matters now, does it?”

“Oh, like _your_ opinion on my sister doesn’t count, either?”

He immediately knew that was the absolute wrong thing to say. Lana’s eyes snapped open and the air around them cooled significantly, making Raj’s skin prickle. She didn’t even look at him, but he knew her golden eyes glowed with passion in that moment. He probably would have been set on fire by that gaze if she’d looked at him. Instead, the ship fell into the enormous pit she had dug with a heart-wrenching thud.

Koth grabbed his shoulder, “Come on, let’s go scavenge what we can from the wreck - I have a feeling we’re going to need some things to barter with.”

Raj honestly felt a little hollowed out and dead inside as Lana pushed piles of dirt on his beloved ship. But he let Koth lead him through the surrounding woods, taking his hand loosely.

They both picked up bits and pieces of the ship as they wandered, looking for parts they could sell.

“How could anyone live here?” Koth mused at some point, putting part of a piston in the backpack.

“Probably because they have to,” Raj replied sullenly, “Nowhere else they could go.”

They picked and poked around some more in the undead forest, keeping their eyes to the ground except when it sounded like there might have been a skytrooper pod nearby. But they never took an interest in them, soaring by overhead without slowing down or descending upon them.

After an hour or so, Lana caught up to them.

“Come on, the settlement is only two and a half clicks north. If we hurry we can leave this accursed place before dark.”

The boys followed diligently, and it was really the first time Raj had been able to inspect the undead forest they walked through. The dirt was a rich, dark brown, and it seemed odd that nothing seemed to be able to grow in it. Not that Raj was a horticulturist in any way, but still. Weird. The trees were gnarled and bare, looking more like petrified tentacles than plants. The bark was a grey-ish white, making the whole place look even more sickly. It really wasn’t much in terms of cover, but it was far better than anything else nearby. And the last thing they needed now was for the skytroopers to find them without the safety of the ship. 

The settlement could hardly be called a village. There was more green here, true, little plants poked out of the dirt around people’s homes, but they still seemed small and withered. Maybe it was the dry season? Was there even a wet season?

There were approximately twelve people out and about in the streets, wandering somewhat haplessly. In a place like this, they weren’t likely to go unnoticed. Certainly not when the folks here most definitely saw their ship go down in the forest after taking out nearly a dozen skytrooper pods. It was the middle of the day, but there seemed to be no one around in this lone settlement, though it looked like it could house at least a few hundred.

“Feels like a ghost town,” Koth remarked quietly, shoving his hands in his coat pockets. Raj agreed silently.

Lana led their little party, head high like she belonged there.

The trade post was the only building around that had any sort of crowd around it - and calling the people milling around it a crowd was not even close to accurate. Six or seven folks perused the stalls and held a few produce items in their hands and baskets, gossipping with each other incessantly. But as soon as three newcomers entered the building, all conversation stopped immediately and all of them stared at the three of them, scrutinizing who had come to their tiny establishment.

Raj swallowed hard, pushing down the urge to cling to Koth.

Someone whistled at them, and everyone in the room whipped their heads around to find the source of the call. A Mirialan sat in the back of the room with his feet up on the table, hands resting behind his head. He wore a ribbon on his shirt that said “Mayor of Bum Fuck Nowhere”. Charming.

“Oy, you look a little lost, maybe I can help you?” he greeted, beckoning the three of them closer with a little movement of his head, “Don’t often get newcomers around here. Take it you folks owned the ship that went crash down south?”

“Ey, Geralt!” a human girl interrupted, bouncing in from the office to the left, “Got that shuttle fixed right fair, lah. Should be good to go if them _siao_ Gamorreans show.”

The three outsiders all looked at each other and back at the Mirialan.

“Hmm, I’m guessing the Gamorreans have competition for that ship now, Evie, dear,” Geralt said shrewdly to the mechanic, then shifting his attention to the newcomers, sounding for all intents and purposes like a used speeder salesman, “You three wouldn’t happen to be in need of a ship, now would you?”

Lana took a step forward and put her hands on the merchant’s table, looking at him straight in the eyes with that death glare of hers. The Mirialan didn’t even flinch.

“What do you want for it?” she seethed.

He just laughed and started looking at his nails, absently pushing cuticles back, “Oh, honey, it’s not about how much, it’s about what you can offer.”

Lana didn’t even blink, “Seventy-five thousand credits now-”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, there blondie, I’m gonna have to stop you short. Don’t deal in creds out here. No Pubs of Imps to speak of out this far, their money’s worthless. Gonna have to find something else to offer.”

Raj wasn’t sure she wasn’t going to just blow the roof off the place, the absolute ire and hatred practically radiating off her.

But she waved her hand and pushed, “Credits will do just fine.”

Geralt cocked his head at her, “Did you listen to anything I just said? _No_ , they won’t.”

Lana pushed even harder, waving her hand a little less subtly this time, “And I said _credits will do fine._ ”

“What, what are you doing with your hand-waving thing there? You think you can say hello and I’ll let ya just take off with a shuttle like that? Who do you think you are, some sort of Jedi? Evie, get back here! We got us a dumbass Jedi!”

Koth pushed through to the table before anything else could go terribly and horrifically wrong, pulling out the piston piece from the backpack and putting it on the table.

“We’ve got an XS Freighter out at the edge of the forest. It’s a little beat up and a little dirty, but I’ve got all the missing parts here. The parts and the ship are yours for your shuttle.”

“You can’t just offer them _my ship_!” Raj protested weakly, but apparently no one heard him, as Evie just jumped forward and snagged the piston off the table.

“Ey, they’re shiny, Geralt! Pistons liddat ain’t on other ships, just the XSes. Know what we could do with one of them, lah?”

Geralt finally took his feet off the table and leaned forward on his elbows, squinting at them, “Now we’re getting serious. But one ship for another ain’t gonna cut it, not with how many pieces yours is in. My shuttle is in pristine condition, newly cleaned and wiped of all navigational history. Evie’s gonna have to put your piece of junk back together and she deserves something real nice for that.”

Raj scoffed at the accusation that his ship was a “piece of junk”, but rather than arguing pointlessly, he just pouted and crossed his arms over his chest. At least the little mechanic seemed to appreciate what they were getting out of this.

Koth and Lana thought for a moment about what they could offer these people that would mean anything. Raj saw the Sith put her hand in her pocket, turning something over in her fingers, and he wondered briefly what she was thinking. But Koth ended that thought process quickly, pulling out his military identification and sliding it across the table.

“Ehh, what?” the Mirialan asked, taking a closer look at it.

But again, the tawny-skinned human grabbed it out from under his nose and gasped, “A real Zak ID!! Don’t even look faked! We could right proper reprogram the skytroopers with this, make it stick rather than memory wipe them all every three days.”

“A tad out of date,” Koth admitted, “But it’s genuine, I can assure you.”

Lana eyed them both scornfully, “You mean _you_ control the skytrooper patrols here?”

Evie shrugged, “Course we do. You didn’t think them guai lan Zaks actually cared about anything this far out, didya?”

The three of them just looked at each other with varying levels of confusion, frustration, and despair. Well, Raj was the only one feeling despair at the moment. And only because he didn’t actually have to lose his ship in this whole ordeal if they’d known that.

Geralt cleared his throat, “Well, whaddya think, Eev? That good enough for you? The ship and the ID?”

Evie nodded, examining the holographic card again, “Hell yeah, ignition codes are all theirs.”

The Mirialan slammed an open palm on the table, which seemed to rattle everything in the building, including the six other customers, “It’s a done deal, then! If you’ll follow me to the back, I’ll show you your new ride. Evie, call the Gamorreans, tell ‘em the deal’s changed and they’ll get an XS Freighter in two standard weeks instead.”

“Sure, sure.”

Geralt stood up strangely gracefully, and beckoned them with a movement of his fingers to follow him. Lana clearly didn’t trust him as her hand rested on the hilt of her lightsaber. Raj and Koth followed the two of them wearily. But, as the door to the mechanic’s garage opened, a little ship stood in the center, pristine and shining in the artificial light.

“Ah, there she is,” Geralt declared magnanimously, apparently unconcerned by the Sith and her weapon, “One beautiful little J-type star skiff.”

He wasn’t kidding about the beautiful part. Raj stepped forward and reached out to it with one hand, running it along the smooth underbelly of one of the wings. It wasn’t as big as his XS Freighter, but damn, if it wasn’t pretty.

“It’s not as inconspicuous as I’d like,” Lana frowned, circling and inspecting it.

“Eh, fly her around the system once or twice and she’ll get plenty marked up for ya,” Geralt commented easily, tossing a datachip to the Sith, “Besides, not like there are a lotta other options for ya here. It is, after all-” he pointed to his ribbon “-Bum Fuck Nowhere around here.”

Geralt left after that, running a hand through his dark hair and waving casually as he returned to chat up his other customers in the building proper.

The three of them entered the ship together, and gods, the inside was just as beautiful as the outside. Raj really didn’t want to think about how something as nice as this ended up here… Lana immediately made for the cockpit and readied the ship for takeoff, pulling out her datapad to import the coordinates for the Gravestone part they were looking for here. The actual reason they’d come to Arron Prime. Not that high speed chases and bartering with sleazy salesmen wasn’t an interesting way to spend a day or two, but they did actually have a mission to accomplish here.

“You two look for bugs and wiretaps,” she commanded, “I don’t trust either of those two further than I can throw them.”

“Can do, boss,” Raj called to her, going into the captain’s quarters to begin the sweep.

As he ran his hands over the surfaces in the room, he heard Koth come in behind him and shut the door.

“Everything alright?” Raj asked, turning his head to face him from his crouched position on the floor.

Koth nodded, “Yeah, yeah. Just thinking. There’re only two bedrooms on the ship. Lana obviously needs one of her own for her Force stuff, but between the two of us, there’s just this one.”

Raj grinned and stood, “You wanna rock-paper-scissors for it? Winner takes the room and the title ‘Captain’. Loser sleeps on the couches outside.”

The other man just laughed, “Not exactly what I had in mind. Besides, I think you rightly deserve the title anyway.”

“Ohh, part of me really hopes there _is_ a bug in here so I can replay that sentence forever.”

“Ha ha, Captain Smartass, don’t make me regret that,” Koth replied sarcastically, attempting to keep a straight face.

Raj stood up again, pondering the epithet until the ship lurched upward suddenly. He stumbled forward a couple steps as he fought to keep his balance, throwing his hands out to find a wall to hold onto.

Instead of a wall, he found himself crashing into Koth, who’d been surprised as much as he was.

“Apologies,” Lana noted dryly over the comm, not sounding sorry at all, “New ships always come with a learning curve.”

Well. Now they were in each other’s arms. Quite literally. But what to do about it-

Koth kissed him. Nearly rammed their faces together, slowing only at the last moment to keep their teeth from crashing together. But it absolutely made Raj weak in the knees anyway, and thank the stars Koth had his hand splayed across his back because he really wasn’t sure he wasn’t going to just fall over. Despite the rocky start, though, Koth was undoubtedly the best kisser Raj had ever met. He slid one hand up the back of Raj’s neck and pressed their bodies together with the other still on his back. And good gods above, Raj loved the taste of him. The galaxy could have imploded and in that moment, he hardly would have noticed.

“Wow,” he wheezed when they finally parted, “You’re… you’re good at that.”

Koth just grinned widely, “We’ll have to do it again sometime.”

\---

Vaylin was _bored_. She sat on the throne with her feet swinging off the side, licking the juice of an apple off her fingers noisily. The sucking noises were far better than the silence. And far better than the loud music of the reverie below. Normally she reveled in the chaos and excitement of the lavish parties thrown at the palace, but for some reason tonight she couldn’t bear the thought of going down there and being among _people_. Ugh. They were so needy, always grovelling at her feet, hurling compliments at her like they meant anything. They were all lies, and the one thing she couldn’t stand at the moment was another lie.

She was a monstrosity, a barely tamed beast, wild and uncontrolled. Those were the truths about Vaylin. The ugly truths that no one - not even Arcann - had the guts to admit aloud. But everyone thought it. It was obvious that everyone thought it. But they couldn’t voice those opinions, no no. Because they might reach her ears and she might explode on them all. Couldn’t just send her back to Nathema like last time, could they?

She let out an ugly laugh. They couldn’t ever send her back to that place. She’d make sure of that.

They’d get the explosion they were looking for if they tried.

Everyone was tense around her, always. Every time she went into her private quarters she felt the collective sigh of relief from the palace staff; thank the gods we don’t have to appease her anymore, we don’t have to worry for our lives with her in seclusion, we don’t have to come at her every beck and call, we won’t be subjected to her every whim. She’d taken to giving them absurd tasks just to see if they would do it.

She chucked the apple core off the side of the ramp, closing her eyes as she listened to the clanking as it fell to the bottom of the Spire. It was immensely satisfying to listen to it drop.

The door to the elevator dinged opened and she stiffened immediately, but didn’t open her eyes.

“Sister?” Arcann called to her, oddly softly, “What are you doing up here?”

She blew a raspberry at him, “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Wouldn’t you rather be down below at the party than up here alone?”

“No.”

She opened one of her eyes and looked him up and down briefly. He was dressed in black, white, and gold formal wear, his mask and robotic arm on display as usual. If anyone was a freak here, it was him. With that stupid arm and useless mask that he refused to get replaced no matter how much it hurt him.

He just stood there, looking at her like an idiot, not sure what to say. Vaylin was a loose cannon, even to her brother. Even to the one person she trusted in this whole fucking universe. Arcann looked at her and saw what everyone else saw: unbridled vengeance and power. She hated him in that moment.

But just as she was about to say something, he shook his head, turned on his heel, and left.

The damn coward couldn’t even bother to stay in the same room as her for longer than he had to. She was determined not to cry, but it was damn fucking hard when she sat alone at the top of a tower, feared and loathed by everyone she’d ever met. Even her own damn father feared her. He feared her so much he shipped her off to a dead world and had her tortured and beaten and broken. If it hadn’t been his fucking dick that spawned her, he wouldn’t have deserved that title. _Father._

She scoffed and stood, pacing around the throne like an angry toddler who couldn’t figure out how to get into the pantry. She screamed and kicked the chair, only to crumple into a mess of ugly sobbing on the floor.

Everyone wanted her to be something, someone she wasn’t. Calmer, softer, quieter, restrained, easygoing, compassionate, the list went on and on and on. They treated her like a child because they viewed her as one. An incredibly volatile child who could be set off at a moment’s notice. Well, maybe she was! Maybe she was impetuous, irrational, and hotheaded! Maybe she was violent and impatient! But that didn’t mean she wasn’t still a person! That didn’t mean she didn’t deserve love or genuine kindness!

Fuck it all, if an actual child could be loved for who they were, why couldn’t she?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge shoutout and thank you to angelicfangirl for letting me steal her smuggler, Geralt Abelli! And to defira for letting me steal one of her cast of thousands, Evie Che (and editing all her dialogue because she has a very particular accent that I absolutely cannot write)! You two are the best!!!
> 
> Also, please keep in mind that everything I just said about Arron Prime was 100% made up. We technically don't even know that Arron Prime is a planet. We have that one throwaway line in chapter 4 of KOTFE where we know that it's a place where Koth and Lana buried a ship. So literally the rest of this is just me going "yoU WANT DIRT, BIOWARE?! YOU'RE GONNA GET SOME DIRT." 
> 
> And lastly, bonus points to you if you notice that I lifted lines straight out of kotor 2.


	13. Commanders

_Raelyn,_

_Do you remember the first time we met? All those years ago when I was still a servant of Darth Arkous, and you were the freshly ordained and avenged Emperor’s Wrath? It seems like a lifetime ago now. We were so much younger then, reckless. Naive, even. You entered Arkous’ offices proud, confident, and prepared for anything. I believe the first words out of your mouth were “Which one of you summoned the Empire’s Wrath?” I knew in that first moment that I wished to spend a lifetime with a woman like you. Not even romantically as partners at that point, but professionally at least. I admired your spirit, your presence, your courage and authority in the face of a Dark Council member. I remember the moment I felt our connection in the Force manifest. The moment I knew our fates were intertwined. Though I had never imagined the path our lives and our love would take._

_But destiny has a habit of going its own way, I suppose. Not that I truly believe in destiny, of course. We chose every step of the way to pursue our relationship, to work together, to love each other. I do not regret a single one of those choices, even as I have found myself missing you desperately over the last five years._

_We’ve spent more time apart now than we have together. But that does not mean I love you any less. The phrase ‘distance makes the heart grow fonder’ comes to mind. Pillows make a poor substitute for you, my dear, but so would anything or anyone else._

_We’ll be together again soon. Only a little longer, my love._

_Lana_

\---

“Morning, _Commander_.”

“Mm, it’s too early for ‘Commanders’, Felix…” Kalina opened her eyes to see her husband propped up on an elbow, a thin ray of sun stretching across his bare chest.

He traced little circles into the back of her hand while he pondered a response, “Hmm, but it’s far easier than Barsen’thor or Ember Fist or Jedi Master Lornacch, upstanding member of the Jedi Council despite her marriage to a silly love-stricken man.”

“You could just go with ‘wife’ or ‘dear’,” she suggested, stretching up to kiss him softly.

She could feel him smiling against her lips, his hand coming up to her chin to pull her face against his.

“Aw, now where’s the fun in that?” he teased softly, tucking a lock of her crimson hair behind her ear so he could kiss her cheek. He was so soft and gentle, warm against the cool morning breeze that filtered into the room. She shivered involuntarily, and Felix immediately wrapped her in his arms and tucked her against him.

Kalina loved the quiet mornings on Odessen.

But it didn’t take long for Rhian to come running in, already dressed in her little padawan robes. Kalina and Felix separated and sat up as the girl clambered on the bed and sat right in between her parents. Her shimmering amber eyes were wide open, her whole body practically vibrating in excitement. If this hadn’t been a near daily occurrence, Kalina would have thought she’d missed some sort of holiday.

“Hi Mama! Hi Papa!” the girl greeted cheerfully, “Is it time for school yet?”

Kalina held her arms out and Rhian wiggled her way in for a hug and a kiss to the top of her head, “Let mum get dressed first. Then we’ll go find Miss Ona’la and Miss Alema’tann, alright?”

Rhian nodded vigorously, sliding off the bed as Kalina swung her legs off the side. She held her little hands out like Felix did, offering to help her mother stand. Kalina smiled and took her hands before she hauled herself up with only minor difficulty. It was a good morning for her legs, thankfully; she might not need the staff at all if she was conscious of her movements and energy level throughout the day.

“Thank you, my love,” she said.

“I helped!” Rhian declared before Felix snuck up behind her and quickly scooped her up, leading to a series of squeals and giggles from her and unbridled laughter from him.

“You sure did, buddy,” he replied, throwing her over his shoulder through more giggles and laughter, “You did good. Let’s go help dad make breakfast while mom gets ready, huh?”

Kalina could hear the cereal bowls clinking out in the other room as she got dressed and she smiled to herself. Despite the circumstances that led to it, she was grateful to have her little family whole again.

Felix offered to stay behind as Kalina and Rhian made their way to the creche, citing some chores he needed to do - though Kalina had a sense that he was really just going to nap until the first meeting of the day, given how early it still was. But she let him think she believed him, holding Rhian’s hand as the girl led her mother through the labyrinth of mostly constructed hallways.

It had been nearly a year since Lana had shown them Odessen, since they decided to build a base for their Alliance here. And surely, it would take multiple years for the entire facility to get up and running at maximum levels, but they’d already made considerable process. They had a small hospital, a cantina, headquarters for the smugglers of Hylo Visz, a Force Enclave headed by the Voss Mystic Sana-Rae, an extensive military base, the beginnings of a scientific laboratory, and of course, the War Room. Kalina still hated that name. The main base was anchored into a cliff face, but there were already refugees settling in in the surrounding forests and grassy clearings. It would only be a matter of time before their presence in the Force was so strong that Arcann would feel it and have to investigate.

She shook off the creeping worry, squeezing Rhian’s hand gently as she started to skip beside her mother. The creche wasn’t far now, and as they turned the corner, the noise level immediately multiplied tenfold. Dozens of children were waking and getting ready for their first lessons of the day, the cacophony reaching down to the end of the hallway. Kalina rubbed her temple with her free hand, wondering how the Twi’lek matrons survived the daily onslaught of so many Force-sensitive children.

A bright blue blur came slamming into Rhian in a tackle-hug, nearly pushing both girls to the ground.

“Rhiiiiiiiiiiiaaaaaaaaaan!” the little Twi’lek called, “Rhian, come play with us before we have to do _boring_ things!”

Rhian frowned a little, “But, but I like reading and medi-... meditationing.”

Kalina recognized the other girl as Ona’la’s boisterous first born, Anya. She’d declared friendship upon anyone who’d come into her line of sight, and she and Rhian had quickly become good friends, despite their differing interests. Though Kalina had a feeling even Rhian was tired after a full day with little Anya. She really wasn’t sure how Ona’la and Thexan managed...

“Be good for Miss Ona’la, alright, Rhi?” Kalina said, crouching down to meet her daughter’s eyes, “You two go have fun.”

Rhian planted a kiss on her mother’s forehead and hugged her around the neck, “I’ll be good. Promise. Bye, mom!”

“Bye, Miss Kalina!” Anya waved vigorously.

And off they went together, down the hall and out of sight. Kalina let out a deep sigh, feeling her energy sapped by the short conversation. It was a miracle she felt so comfortable around her own child, to be honest. Why were other people’s kids so exhausting?

As if to answer the question, six small blonde humans went racing around her down the hallway, each one offering a “Hello, Missus Lornacch” as they went.

“Children! Don’t run into Miss Kalina!” the soft but pointed call of Lieca Amell drifted down to her from behind the little ones.

A chorus of them stopped and replied, “Sorry, mum.”

“Don’t apologize to me,” Lieca reprimanded with a smile, as always, “Say you’re sorry to Miss Kalina for almost bowling her over.”

All of their heads turned to Kalina, “Sorry for running into you, Miss Kalina.”

She waved them off, pressing her hand hard on her thigh to try and stand, feeling a touch of the Force pull her up when she wasn’t sure she had the strength to do it herself, “Please, please, it’s fine. You should get going, you don’t want to be late for Miss Ona’la’s lesson.”

They all nodded and sprinted off down the hallway again. Kalina looked to Lieca and shook her head.

“Thanks,” she said, embracing the other Jedi.

Lieca held out Kalina’s well-worn staff and winked, “For what, Commander?”

“Oh, stars, not you too.”

Lieca laughed warmly, “What? You _are_ the Commander!”

Kalina looked at her staff and leaned on it, wondering if it was Lieca’s idea or Felix’s to bring it to her, “That doesn’t mean you all have to _call_ me that.”

“Well, I hardly think Lana would take to the title any better.”

“She really wouldn’t,” the Barsen’thor snorted, “Are you off to help Ona’la this morning?”

Lieca nodded, “They’re learning about healing techniques today - she thought I’d qualify as an expert.”

Kalina smiled warmly, “No one’s better for it. Good luck, Lieca.”

The other Jedi quickly wrapped her arms around Kalina in a tight embrace, sending more healing energy through her before she backed up and followed her children down the hall, “Have a good day!”

The rest of the base was abuzz with activity as construction workers began their tasks for the day, advisors were running around and giving updates, and many Jedi and military folks were doing their morning workouts. Kyna Corripere seemed to be leading them this morning, her rich Corellian accent and melodious tone wafting in from outside. It might have been nice to join them, to work out some of the kinks in her joints and bones as best she could, but Maraalor would probably be displeased if she pushed herself, and seeing as how she was going to meet the Togruta now, it was in her best interests to refrain from it. Perhaps tomorrow morning, she didn’t think she had any meetings planned for then.

As she rounded the corner to the laboratory, something hissed, sputtered, and then cracked.

“Shit fuck!” a familiar voice grumbled loudly.

“I’m almost afraid to ask,” Kalina said from the doorway, smiling wryly as she leaned against her staff.

Maraalor turned to her and frowned, “Turns out, your _infamous_ shielding technique isn’t easily replicable technology!”

A tall, muscular Mirialan put a hand on the Togruta’s shoulder, “You’re really close though, that’s amazing.”

Maraalor brushed him off, “Thanks, Deris, but ugh, fuck! That was only ten percent power and it shattered in my hands!”

“That is to be expected,” a pale Pureblood Sith commented evenly, “Even blaster shields have their power limits, it would of course make sense that one of this nature does, as well.”

Maraalor just sighed and shook his head, “Kalina, have you met everyone? Probably should do that before we give you a status update.”

“That would be lovely.”

“The beefy Mirialan is Anderis Corripere, part of that clan, yeah. The Sith is Lord Cytharat, former advisor to Darth Marr on Makeb before that shit went up in flames. The Twi’lek you’ve met, Lek’rume. And Doctor Lokin and Nadia you already know, but I don’t want them to feel left out.”

Kalina nodded politely and joined them at their workbenches, “A pleasure to meet you all.”

“You, as well, Commander,” Cytharat replied primly. Deris just smiled widely and bowed a little.

Kalina bypassed the formal title, “Aside from what I just witnessed, then, how are you doing?”

Maraalor rubbed his palms together, a little stream of golden light passing through them as he no doubt healed the cuts on them from the shattered shield, “Ah, I was really hoping that experiment would be a crowning moment.”

“It’s alright,” Deris urged quickly, smiling down at the short Togruta, “These things happen. Coruscant wasn’t built in a day, right, Master Lornacch?”

She nodded, “Of course. But _some_ progress would be good.”

Lek’rume stepped forward and projected some schematics before them. He was wrapped in about seven layers, Kalina noticed. Was that just his permanent state?

“We actually do think we have a solution,” he explained, pointing to various locations on the blueprint, “Maraalor was building a scale model, but it’s not quite the same as it would be for real.”

“For starters,” Nadia continued, “Our actual shield will be more like a stealth generator, but much bigger, obviously. It won’t act as a buffer against atmospheric bombardment -”

“-although we probably ought to upgrade it to do so eventually-” Lokin cut in, but Nadia continued as if he hadn’t said anything.

“- but more as really thick cloud cover to both ship sensors and Force-users. Your shield technique is being used for the latter.”

“The trick,” Cytharat took over, moving to stand close to Lek’rume, “Is to shield the planet, but not make it invisible. We hardly need Eternal Fleet ships crash landing here and discovering us because they ran right into us.”

Maraalor sighed again, “And therein lies the difficulty. Your shielding technique is difficult enough to replicate on a planet-wide scale - and _don’t you even dare_ think to offer to do that job for us - but coupled with the clouding-slash-code-scrambling, it all gets a little mucked up. And things apparently explode in my hands.”

“Having been monitoring the chatter,” Lokin commented, “it’s clear that Emperor Arcann is unconcerned with Odessen for the moment. That will help buy us a bit more time. I’m sure Agent Politryk will be helping us in that arena, as well. We should be able to call on her.”

Kalina nodded, “I’d rather not add to Rimea’s load, but it’s good to know we have that option.”

“Of course. We’ll do what we can,” Lek’rume replied, fiddling with the cuff of his outermost sweater.

“That’s all I can ask,” she said, “Keep up the good work, and let me know if you need anything.”

Cytharat bowed politely, “Thank you, Commander.”

Maraalor was already bent over the laboratory table again, “See ya, Lina. I’ll stop by later, alright?”

“Sure, sure,” she replied as she turned around and trekked down the hallway to the Force enclave.

Unsurprisingly, the enclave was far quieter than the rest of the base; most of the inhabitants were busy meditating or reading scholarly works or conversing in hushed voices. Sana-Rae floated around the room, her ethereal presence startling none of them as she approached and dispensed words of encouragement to them all. But over in the corner was the woman Kalina was looking for.

There were three of them, actually - a human husband and wife facing a female Chiss. They sat together in meditative positions, communing silently it seemed. Kalina had been introduced to the Zakuulan knight couple when they’d arrived on the base nearly a month ago - Frederci and Hercie Beta. Both of them had defected from their homeworld, angry and bitter at Arcann’s treatment of his own people. They still had trouble grasping that the Alliance was looking to help people from across the entire galaxy rather than Zakuul alone, but they’d been assigned Thastre - the Chiss with them - as a mentor. Actually, Thastre seemed to have gathered a little band of jaded Zakuulan defectors, having been given the task of welcoming them and softening them to keep them from becoming glorified terrorists in the Alliance’s name. The Betas just happened to be at the top of the concern list at the moment, since Theron found communications between them and a certain Firebrand back down in the Old World.

Fighting Arcann was all well and good, but they couldn’t allow innocent Zakuulans to die in the process. And Firebrand delighted in violent chaos, from the videos Kalina had seen. Not really someone the Alliance could afford to ally with at the moment. Which made Thastre’s work with the Betas all the more vital.

Kalina stopped about ten paces behind the little group and waited for them to finish.

Thastre took one final deep breath before the three of them opened their eyes and stood.

“Good work. I will see you both after the evening meal tonight, yes?”

They nodded in unison, and Kalina imagined how well they worked together in battle, “Absolutely. We appreciate the time you give us, Thastre. Though if you have others you’d like to see, you must only tell us and we’ll allow you an evening of peace.”

Thastre smiled widely, “It is no trouble at all, my friends. Our time together brings all of us peace, I think, yes?”

The Betas bowed, and Hercie spoke again, “Until tonight, then. Goodbye, Thastre.”

Thastre returned the gesture and waited for them to exit the enclave together before she addressed Kalina, “Hello, Kalina. I apologize for the wait.”

“It’s no trouble at all, Thastre,” she replied.

Thastre gently put a hand to Kalina’s shoulder and began to proceed out of the enclave, “Come, let us join the others for the midday meal. Thandra has been… hmm what is the word... _pinging_ my communicator all morning. I should make sure she is alright.”

Kalina laughed, “Oh, I wonder how Rhian will be at that age.”

Thastre smiled, “Just as her mother, I am sure.”

“Oh, I certainly hope not,” Kalina replied, “Master Syo Bakarn can attest that I was a rowdy padawan in those years. We can only hope she takes on Felix’s attitude as she grows older.”

The Chiss nodded and swerved out of the way of cargo container, allowing Kalina to walk unimpeded, “How does your work go? Are we close to freeing Lord Politryk?”

“It’s difficult to tell since we have limited communication with either Rimea or the Gravestone gang at this point. But from the news we’ve been getting from Raj, Koth, and Lana, yeah, we’re almost ready to go.”

“That is truly excellent news.”

Kalina looked her in the eyes as they stopped for a moment just outside the War Room, waiting for the elevator. The wrinkles around her eyes looked deeper than normal, her rich maroon eyes not quite reaching Kalina’s as they walked together.

“How goes your own work? The Betas seem to like the time you spend with them.”

Thastre sighed quietly, “They all like the time they spend with me. The trouble is never when they are with me. As soon as they leave the enclave they wish to fight, to incite violence. And I am at a loss to persuade them that violence is not the answer they seek.”

The elevator landed with a thud and the two women climbed on board, interrupting their conversation for just a moment.

Once the doors had closed, Kalina reached out and took Thastre’s hand in her own, “You are not responsible for the actions of others, dear Thastre. Your work is exceptional, and I am very grateful that you do it, but you are not the people you help. They must make their own choices and realize the consequences of those actions. On their own.”

Thastre glanced down and smiled a little, “I know. Thank you, Kalina.”

As soon as the elevator door opened again, the noise level increased tenfold. It was a beautiful day on Odessen and most folks seemed to take their meals on the balcony, sitting on the durasteel floor or with their feet hanging over the chasm, talking and eating with their friends and families. The Amell-Cordan clan all raised a unison greeting and raised their sandwiches in hello, and Kalina smiled as she waved back.

Inside the cantina was no quieter - it seemed everyone had taken lunch at the same time today, and there were few open tables. Fortunately, Felix and Rhian occupied one and had left enough seats for both women to join them.

They hadn’t even sat down when an indigo blur crashed into Thastre, “Mom, mom, mom! Did you get my texts? Do you know what it means?”

Thastre hugged her daughter and kissed her hair, “I have been working all morning, ch'eo k'eten. I have not had the opportunity to read them yet. Do you remember Miss Kalina and her family, Felix and Rhian?”

Thandra nodded, “Rhian and I sat next to each other during Master Amell’s lecture this morning.”

If Rhian hadn’t shoved a huge bite of her lunch in her mouth at that moment, she probably would have commented, but as it was, Thandra just slid her comm across the table to her mother.

“Mom, what does this mean? Do you think she likes me?”

Thastre took the comm in her hand and looked at the message with furrowed brows, “I… do not understand…  Zaak the number two nite? Esk balcony, question mark? Less than three?”

“Zaak is short for pazaak. Two-nite is short for tonight. Esk is for east,” Thandra explained, then turned the comm and pointed to the last two symbols, “The less than three makes a heart.”

“Andi is asking if you want to play pazaak on the east balcony tonight? And sent you a heart?”

“Yes! What does it _mean_ , though!? Are we going on a date? Is this a date? Is she just showing off her pazaak skills? Would _that_ mean something? Mom, why do I have _feelings_?”

Kalina took a bite of her sandwich to keep from laughing at the scene unfolding before her.

Thastre smiled and shook her head before taking Thandra’s hands and looking her in the eyes, “It means she wants to spend time with you, my love. That she enjoys your company. I can only assume that the heart would mean that she does indeed return the feelings you have for her, but Thandra... you can always ask.”

The girl’s face drew seriously for a moment, “By the ice, that’s a scary thought… _ask_ her?”

Thastre nodded, “Ask her.”

“Over text? Now?”

“While you two are playing pazaak tonight.”

Thandra took a deep breath, and hugged her mother tightly, “Okay, I can do that. Thanks, mom, you’re the best. I’ll see you later. Love you!”

“I love you, too, Thandra.”

The Chiss girl nodded politely to the Lornacchs before she bounded off and disappeared into the crowd of the cantina.

Rhian attached herself to Kalina as Thandra had Thastre, “Love you, mama.”

Kalina smiled, hoped the galaxy would be kinder to their children than it had been to them, hoped this Alliance could bring peace and hope to the galaxy again, “Love you too, Rhi.”

\---

“‘Nother delivery this mornin, Lac?”

The Twi’lek nodded without looking over, “Mhmm, a carburetor.”

“Sweet, soon as Risha gets outta the fresher, we’ll get that installed. Shouldn’t muck you up much, yeah?” Noghea put a hand to Aelacc’s shoulder, rubbed it with her thumb, and while Aelacc appreciated the gesture she still repressed an involuntary shudder.

To the Mirialan’s credit, she backed off immediately, feeling Aelacc’s discomfort almost instinctively, “Ah, sorry, forgot you don’t do touches.”

Aelacc shrugged, “It’s alright, I’m used to it.”

Noghea frowned, “What an awful thing. Ain’t nobody ever _listen_ to you?”

She twirled an unruly lock of dark green hair in her fingers, silvery-blue eyes staring off into space. Having spent the last six months in isolation in the Zakuulan swamps with the Mirialan and her human wife, Aelacc had come to know her quirks and habits very well. She played the fool well, used it to her advantage, but Noghea was no idiot. She had a near-complete knowledge of the workings of ships, an immense collection of tales from around the galaxy memorized and ready to tell at a moment’s notice, a great interest in galactic economic patterns and projections, and on top of that Aelacc was pretty sure the woman had perfect pitch, even if she refused to use her singing talents beyond purposefully-awful renditions of synth-pop tunes that were popular decades earlier.

Noghea towered over Aelacc, her gaze barely grazing the top of her head, and the Twi’lek wondered briefly just what she was thinking about.

But that devilish grin appeared again and her eyes focused back on reality, “You start making a list o’ folks who treat you wrong and I’ll fight ‘em, a’ight, Lac? Won’t kill ‘em, though, know you don’t like that either.”

Aelacc just stood there with the carburetor in her hands, blinking, “You… you what?”

“Nah, I’m just joshing ya,” she said with a laugh, taking the ship piece out of the other woman’s hands and looking her seriously in the eyes, “Unless you want me to. Then I’ll absolutely cut a bitch for you, Lac. You’re a good kid. Don’t deserve that shit.”

“I… That’s not…” Aelacc stumbled over the words, finally just bowing her head, “Thank you, Noghea. I… appreciate the offer.”

The rich, silky voice of Risha cut through the awkwardness, “Ghea, leave the Jedi alone and come help me with my hair before we get to work.”

Noghea winked and slid the box out of her arms smoothly without touching her, “Ah, well, duty calls. See ya later, Lac.”

The Jedi frequently felt like she was walking around in a fog after talking to the smuggler; for all the people she tried to help as Battlemaster and a member of the Jedi Order, she really felt like she didn’t understand them some days. Most days, if she was being honest. Risha was easy enough to talk to, easy-going and predictable, but even she was a politician, ruler of her homeworld, swirling in constructed niceties and platitudes. Aelacc had been forced into the world of politics before, and while she liked Risha immensely as a person, she only reinforced Aelacc’s aversion to that line of work.

She shook the thoughts loose from her head and glanced over at the navicomputer, which was finishing the updates she’d set the night before. The Gravestone was just about ready to fly again, and while it would need far more substantial upgrades when they got back to Odessen, it should be able to get them out of the Zakuulan Swamps. Though without the missing hyperdrive component, they could only make one short jump, which wasn’t ideal. Koth, Raj, and Lana were still out hunting for it. Altair Three, that was the planet they’d mentioned. A world ravaged by Arcann’s war, people broken and destitute, cities shattered and crumbling - Aelacc had seen the news clips on the holonet, broke down into tears just watching it. She nearly broke down again remembering it.

Fortunately, a certain pink hologram materialized beside her.

“Oh, Aelacc, darling, it’s coming along just so perfectly! You’re almost ready to just fly her right out of these dreadful swamps! Rimea will be delighted when I tell her.”

Aelacc smiled a little, “Thank you, Holiday. You’ve been an enormous help, and I know Rimea’s had you running numbers, too.”

“Pish posh, it’s easy for me,” she said with a dismissive hand-wave, “I don’t have a pesky corporeal form to worry about caring for, it makes multitasking a breeze!”

“How is Rimea? Is she holding up alright?”

“Oh, she’s fine,” Holiday chirped, “Almost ready to put your plans into action!”

Something crashed down the hall before Noghea’s voice wafted back to the bridge, “Hey, uhh, Lac? Could use your nifty sabers for a sec!”

Holiday waved her off, “Go help them, I’ll finish the updates in no time!”

Aelacc nodded and put her hands to her belt, taking her worn lightsabers into her hands, feeling the usual rush of adrenaline and anxiety coursing through her.

Noghea and Risha crouched by the entrance of the Gravestone, both partially hidden by the doorway.

The Mirialan waved her over and spoke in a husky whisper, “Company of Skytroopers out there, Lac. Seems like a group of refugees’re making their way to us - prob’ly for shelter - and made enough’uva racket for the bolt buckets to notice.”

A swish of blue flew before them, the skytroopers reacting instantly to the threat. All at once blasters started firing, the Zakuulans started screaming, and the lone lightsaber twirled in the hands of a middle-aged woman. She was dressed in the white and silver armor of a Knight.

“You two stay here,” Aelacc instructed, igniting her own indigo sabers, “I’ll corral the refugees to you - take them in and shield them.”

Both women nodded and the Twi’lek took a single deep breath before she leaped into the thick of the fighting. She slid easily into her fighting mechanics, the pirouettes and spins coming as easily to her as breathing. Even with the unknown Knight beside her, Aelacc fought primarily instinctively - it was easy to fight droids, no lives to worry about ending or effecting.

She slammed her lightsaber into the belly of a droid to her left, wrenching the blade out of it and using her momentum to decapitate another on her right; but as the droid body fell, there was a hissing, then a crackling. Aelacc ducked, knowing she hardly had enough time to leap out of the way of the ensuing explosion.

Just as the droid self-destructed and spewed shrapnel all over a five-meter radius, the Knight dove in front of the Jedi, erecting a lavender-colored Force shield.

“I’ve got you,” she said calmly in Zakuulan before she let down the barrier and continued to tear through the remaining droids.

Aelacc could feel her heart beating in her chest, but raced after her, running her own twin sabers through a pair of skytroopers who had their rifles trained on the Knight’s back. There was a momentary pause where the skytroopers circled the two women - Aelacc looked around them, making sure all the refugees had made it into the Gravestone. Noghea was giving her a thumbs up from the doorway.

“On my count,” Aelacc warned, praying the woman beside her understood Basic, “jump.”

The Knight nodded without turning her head.

“One…”

The skytroopers took another step closer to them.

“Two…”

They raised their rifles.

“ _Three!_ ” the Jedi cried, and in that moment, sent a powerful surge of the Force through the ground, knocking all of the skytroopers off their feet and forcing most of them to drop their weapons. Sure enough, the Knight leaped in the air to avoid the blast, and it was short work to dispatch the fallen droids.

Aelacc disengaged her lightsabers and looked to the other woman, scanning her for any injuries, “Are you alright?”

The Knight nodded shortly, “I’m fine.”

“Woo! Yeah! Way to go, girl!” Noghea cheered in the distance.

Aelacc bashfully put a hand to the back of her head and looked down at her feet.

“You fought well,” the Knight said, switching to Basic and holding out her hand to the Jedi, “I am Senya.”

“Aelac’camo,” she replied, vaguely recognizing the name from a conversation she’d overheard between Lana and Koth. They’d argued about this Senya. Fiercely.

She hesitated before she took the other woman’s hand in hers. Senya’s hands were rough, calloused from years of holding a lightsaber, but they were gentle, too. The Jedi almost didn’t feel totally repulsed by someone touching her. Almost.

She slid her hand out and stuck it in the pocket of her robes. It didn’t strike her until now that she may have just shook hands with the enemy. Fought side-by-side with her. But something made her believe that Senya wasn’t the enemy. She wasn’t just another Knight in the swamps hunting traitors.

“What are you doing out here, fighting skytroopers?” she asked openly, “I thought Knights and skytroopers were on the same side?”

Senya sighed tiredly, clearly having argued this before, “Many of my brother and sister Knights follow Arcann blindly. But not all of us. He is punishing far too harshly, sending droids to kill innocent civilians. I left my post to protect them, but I see you’ve done a better job than I have.” She motioned to the Gravestone and paused, “I know that is not much to go on. I understand if you do not wish to trust me.”

Aelacc shook her head, “You literally just saved my life and those of about three dozen refugees. That alone leads me to trust you.”

The other woman gave a small, strained smile, “Thank you, Aelac’camo.”

“Does the nice lady wanna stay for dinner?” Noghea called out, still in the doorway.

Aelacc looked to Senya, who smiled a bit more warmly, “I would be honored.”

\---

Rimea ran her fingers over the pair of rings in her hand as she stared at the screen in front of her. Lana had said they’d come from a Zakuulan Knight - from Senya Tirall of all people - and left them in the Razor before she’d departed for Odessen. Over the last months Rimea had studied them extensively; they were clearly attached to some system in the Spire, but she wasn’t sure if they were for identification purposes or security purposes or what. They didn’t seem to have any sort of listening capability, though, so Rimea kept them with her. If nothing else, they kept her hands busy.

She looked at the Zakuulan inscription on the inside of the rings again, identical in both: “The Immortal Emperor Reigns Eternal”, shortened to the acronym T.I.E.R.E.

Not very romantic as inscriptions went. But, well, to each his own.

She hummed to herself absently, the tune of an aria from one of Zakuul’s more popular operas. Her phobias and work hadn’t allowed her to go out and actually see a performance of _Tiere_ more than once, but the recorded tracks played on loop in the apartment and through her head. The tale itself was one of a human woman - Tiere - who was caught in the battles of the Old Gods. In her supplications to Tyth and Aivela, she heard a strange calling, a plea. While wary of Esne’s tests, Tiere went out to save her beloved gods from Esne’s jealousy and Nahut’s darkness. Tiere faced trials only gods could hope to pass, and through her piety, devotion, and wit, brought the four siblings together. The aria Rimea hummed now was a turning point, when Tiere realized the way to free Tyth and Aivela was to reconcile them with Esne and Nahut. Rimea felt a sort of resonance with the story, and though it’s popularity would always be overshadowed by Grey Pathways - especially since the supposed death of Prince Thexan - Rimea felt herself coming back to Tiere’s verses and refrains in her mind.  She wondered briefly if Vector had ever seen a Zakuulan opera - if he’d started listening to them while she was gone.

The monitor beeped and flashed for a moment, drawing Rimea’s attention back to it - but as soon as she looked up, the screen went back to what it was before. She frowned and looked down at the console hub, then over to T7, who hadn’t seemed to notice.

Those years in Imperial Intelligence really did a number to her paranoia.

She shook her head and went back to the data scrolling on the monitor, scanning the numbers for something of importance. They all started to look the same after awhile, and Rimea rubbed at her eyes with the palm of her hand. A bright pink holofigure manifested beside her, apparently sensing her exhaustion, which was odd for an AI, but Holiday wasn’t an ordinary AI.

“Oh, Rimea, dear, you may certainly drift off for a nap if you wish! I’m sure I can handle the data streaming myself! Why, without my Tharan around, I found I have lost many distractions - this would be a cinch!”

Rimea tried not to think of what sort of distractions Tharan provided.

“No, that’s alright, Holiday. I’ll be alright. Thank you, though.”

T7 beeped off in the corner.

“See? Even Teeseven agrees with me! You really should get some rest, you know- oh! My, my, what do we have here?”

Rimea immediately perked up her head and looked at the display intently as Holiday highlighted the interesting sequence - again in bright pink.

“Is that what I think it is?” she asked.

Holiday grinned triumphantly, “I believe it is! The sequences to enter the rooms of the Spire. All we would need is the password given to the higher-ranked Zakuulan Knights, which won’t be easy. But if anyone can do it, it’s you-”

“Tiere,” Rimea replied breathlessly, “The inscription on the rings - it’s the password.”

“How could you possibly know that?” Holiday looked indignant, hands on her hips, pouting.

Rimea was already typing, “Call it a gut feeling.”

“If you say so,” the holoprojected woman shook her head, but she was pouring over the database as it processed the request.

Something dinged.

The display lit up with entrance codes.

T7 screeched and danced on the other side of the room, whirling its head around.

Holiday chuckled, “Are you absolutely positive you aren’t Force Sensitive?”

Rimea nodded, tears welling in her eyes, “Let’s bring her home.”


	14. There Is No Death, There Is the Force

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for mentions of vague injuries and choking

Raelyn,

I wonder if you have been receiving my letters, if you know how much I’ve missed you over the last five years. I imagine it’s difficult to get mail when you are frozen in carbonite. Still, perhaps Vitiate has granted us this one gift.

Even as I write that sentence, I know it cannot be true.

We sit on the final shuttle now, descending to Zakuul’s surface. To the Spire, where we will take you from that place. Believe me when I say I cannot sit still. How could I? The woman I love is within reach, truly so, for the first time in half a decade. I have survived without you for so long, and I would have very much preferred to have you by my side for all that time. Yes, I have helped Kalina lead the Alliance, and yes, I have worked hard to get here, but oh how I wish I could have slept beside you while doing it.

Which is not to say, of course, that I have been drowning in sorrow every waking moment. There have been many adventures about which I have not written to you. I met your sister, your brother, your best friends, and can call them friends of my own. I have laughed and cried and sang (we will not speak of the karaoke night in the presence of either Raj or Koth). I have had my breath taken away on new planets; I have become the undeclared champion of unarmed combat on Manaan; I have watched children grow and learn and play; I have read countless books; I have written poems and sipped brandy on warm summer nights. Perhaps tomorrow or the day after you’ll read them. Perhaps in the time we will have together, I will tell you all of my stories. Looking back, I realize now the letters I have sent have been… pragmatic. Laundry lists of reports, nostalgic reminiscing in my darkest hours. I have told you very little about the people I have grown to love in the last five years.

With the help of those friends, we have founded the Alliance you always dreamed of. You should see it now, my love. You will see it, of that I will be sure. Kalina will be happy to have another Commander at her side, I’m sure. Your Alliance is far greater than anything I imagined it could be, and with your presence, it will only continue to grow. We are made of Sith and Jedi of the highest and lowliest ranks from Masters and Darths to Padawans and Acolytes; we are military heroes and bitter civilians; we are scientists and teachers, mothers and daughters, philosophers and historians; we are refugees and veterans; we are Imperial, Republic, and Zakuulan alike. It is the greatest Alliance I have ever seen, with such a singular focus that I find myself believing we may actually succeed in our goals. It so greatly surpasses anything we did during the Revanite uprising. I dare not write more, as I am unsure if unwelcome parties actually read these - they have had five years to learn to break your encryption code, after all. But you will see, Raelyn. You’ll see how beautiful it has become with your own eyes.

This close to the Spire, so close to you, I can feel your pain once more. I dare not let anyone else know - I know how much you hate seeming weak in the eyes of others. Though I can only imagine the havoc wrought on your body from the carbonite poisoning. As it is, I can feel Vitiate leeching your strength, your passion. I can feel both your heart ache and your lungs burn. Your pain is nearly overwhelming, but I refuse to lose you now. It has been so long since I’ve felt you this strongly, it makes me wonder if you know what is to come. Do you know that I am mere hours away from your side again? I cannot fathom how you would, but there was much about you I could not fathom until I met you.

I love you, Raelyn. I love you now as I did the day I last saw you. Perhaps more so. I have heard so many stories from your siblings about your youth, from Vette and Jaesa about your time as an apprentice and Sith Lord, from Kalina about the times you wished you weren’t attached to an Order at all. I see you so clearly in my mind, memories of you and our times together are vivid and clear and visceral.

My heart is pounding out of my chest in anticipation of seeing you again. We will be reunited, my love. I will see you soon.

With all my heart,  
Lana

\---

Raelyn,

I realize I haven’t sent you much of anything since your disappearance five years ago, and I do apologize for that if you’ve missed them. Maybe they would have given you some reprieve from the onslaught you’ve borne from Valkorion. Or Vitiate. I’m not sure of what to call him. Either way, he is certainly a monster, a planet-destroyer who has attached himself to you for some unknown reason. Perhaps you were simply convenient, or this is related to your time as the Emperor’s Wrath before the whole Yavin IV/Ziost debacle. Again, it doesn’t matter much, I suppose. The important thing is that we don’t know how he’s attached himself to you, but we’re working on ways to kick him out. I can’t imagine you enjoy him leeching onto you, no matter what form it’s taken. Maraalor has already been working with Sana-Rae and Grandmaster Shan to figure out what might have happened. I am pointedly uninvited to those meetings as Maraalor seems to be convinced that I’ll try to use my shielding technique on anything that moves, apparently. To be honest, I’m a little annoyed that he’s refused to let me have a chance to use it - how could I know what I would or would not do if I’m not given the opportunity?

Anyway, that ramble was not the point of this letter.

The point of this letter, I suppose, is to apologize. Apologize for not coming sooner. Apologize for not coming myself. Apologize for not seeing who Valkorion was before it was too late. I’m sorry, Raelyn. I have failed you. As an advisor, as a comrade, as a friend. I’ve tried not to dwell on it, but I can’t help thinking there was something I should have done to keep this from happening. I don’t know what that would have been, but anything other than simply allowing you into wild space alone with Darth Marr and an unknown enemy might have prevented a lot of this.

I’ve spent five years atoning for that mistake. Five years bringing your vision to life, gathering allies and friends to create an alliance, a group of people who want to end Arcann’s reign and Vitiate’s terror and create peace in the galaxy. Five long years. I hope it’s what you imagined. Or that it’s better than you imagined. It’s been an adventure wrangling all these people, but well worth it, I think. And creating a galaxy-saving alliance hardly seems like much of a punishment for what I failed to do. Lana has been an invaluable asset in this expedition - you’ve got quite the woman, my friend. I hope to thank her properly for all this at some point, though I imagine having you back will be thanks enough for her. Perhaps a week of vacation once you’re back in good health.

Not a day goes by when I haven’t thought of you, haven’t wished we could trade places, that I could take on the suffering you’re going through. I haven’t told Lana, haven’t wanted to think about it, but I can feel you, too. I can feel when you call out to us. I can feel when you think you can no longer continue, when Valkorion sustains you just enough so you continue to live, continue to suffer. Calling Valkorion a nightmare is a gross understatement. You’ve suffered long enough, my friend. Five years is a long time to be trapped with a monster like him, and my greatest fear is that it will only be the beginning for you. I’m trying to convince Maraalor to let me do something, to let me help you. But, like I said, I’m not invited to those meetings.

I hear the others are on their way to rescue you now, and my heart is racing just thinking about it - we’re so close to getting you back. So close to seeing each other again. I know Lana has missed you most, but don’t think for a second that I haven’t missed you, too. We’ve known each other too long, loved each other too much for that. You’re the closest thing I’ve had to family, and I won’t let you go now, not when the galaxy needs you the most.

This Alliance may your idea, your brainchild, Raelyn, but it’s been created for the galaxy. And we’re all waiting for our Commander to return safely. The galaxy is waiting for you to return.

-Kalina

\---

Rae,

I only have a few minutes before the descent to the Spire begins in earnest, and I have to get something off my chest. I love you, sister. I love you with all my heart. And I forgive you. If this ends in disaster for either of us, I don’t want you to think that I still hate you for what’s happened between us. At the time, I didn’t understand your decision, couldn’t comprehend why you’d want your own sister to go through the mental conditioning I did. But being here now, having watched the Spire for years, praying that you were still alive in there, I understand. I would do anything to make sure you were safe. That you came out of this alive, healthy, in one piece. And the fact that you convinced the Dark Council to allow me even to live after Darth Jadus, well… that is a far more impressive feat than anything I’ve done. What have I done? Hacked into a few servers, ran a few database queries, spread a few rumors - all things you learn in your first year of intelligence training. Theron could have done it. But not even Lana could convince the Dark Council to move. You did.

It took many years of bitterness and fear to understand why you would do that to me, and to realize that you did it _for_ me. That you saved my life, Raelyn. You didn’t have to (probably shouldn’t have, for your own sake). You had faith that I’d figure out how to undo the mental triggering. And you were right. You always did have more faith in me than I did.

Did you know that Raj has joined your alliance? I didn’t quite believe it myself, to be honest. I still haven’t been able to see him in person, but we have talked briefly over holocall. Just audio, though - I didn’t even get to see him in shades of blue. But he sounds well, at least. Maybe when this is all over we can have a family reunion of sorts. I haven’t spoken to Mum or Dad since Imperial Intelligence claimed me as their own; I have no idea where they are now. If they even survived the Zakuulan onslaught against Dromund Kaas three years ago. But the three of us can make do - it’s more than any of us have had in nearly two decades.

Stars, I’ve not seen you in nearly two decades. It’s hard to believe that after how close we were as children. I still remember the day you were so furious with the boy across the street for insulting me that you flew into a rage and electrocuted the whole block. That boy never bothered me again, by the way, even after you left. I think he had this idea that being Force sensitive meant you would know everything and that you could kill him with a thought, even planets away. I sure wasn’t going to tell him otherwise. I also still remember the following day when the Sith took you to Korriban. You were just as upset as I was about the prospect of splitting up. You begged our parents to have me tested for Force sensitivity so we could go together, but they refused. We all knew I didn’t possess your gifts; they didn’t need to test me for it.

I’ve kept track of your escapades in the meantime, always under the guise of reading on up-and-coming Sith, of keeping Intelligence safe when turnover happened in the Dark Council. The truth was, even though I was angry, I still loved you. And it was difficult to stay angry when I saw that you were defeating slaving rings on Nar Shaddaa, saving light-sided Sith acolytes from death (sorry, I know you wished that was far more secret than it was), and reuniting a Twi’lek family. You’ve worked so hard to do good in the galaxy, even from your position of authority and power. You’re _still_ doing good, even frozen in carbonite you’re working to save the galaxy. Force, I hope Lana and Raj get to you in time.

To see you again would be a grace I do not deserve, but I hope for it anyway. I hope you will meet your niece and your nephew (they both love you already, despite the fact that they’ve never met you). I hope you and Vector can talk about the places you’ve been, the people you’ve met in your travels. I hope we will laugh and dance again like we did when we were children. Our parents would be proud of us, Raelyn. I’m proud of us. We’ve come a long way.

Come back to us, Raelyn. Please.

Rimea

\---

Dear... Raelyn,

Heeeey there, sis. Long time no see. _Very_ … long time no see. I don’t know when we’ll get to talk face to face given just how desperate Lana is to see you again (please don’t tell her I said that), but I’ve been berated no fewer than seven times for fidgeting, so I suppose I should write you something. It’s been a long time coming, especially since I’ve been working with your friends for like, two years now. That’s a weird thought. Me, a smuggler vaguely disliked by the Republic and an outright outlaw in the Empire, in cahoots with the friends of the Empire’s Wrath. Who is, you guessed it, also my sister. Wow, that’s weird. Saresh would probably love my head on a silver platter right about now. I hope she’s the only one…

Anyway, hello. I hope you’re doing alright in there. But not too alright, because Lana would be really upset if you didn’t want to come with us and it would just be super awkward if we went through all this trouble to get you out and you’re just like ‘nah, I’m good, I think I’ll just chill in here for a bit longer’. Ha, get it? Chill? Because you’re in carbonite? Maybe I shouldn’t make jokes about that. Sith aren’t usually known for their sense of humor…

Then again, I don’t think you’re really a typical Sith, yeah? Again, haven’t seen you in like… shit… eighteen years, but you’re different from them... Maybe you’re not. You’re not like the Sith I’ve met, at any rate. Or, the twelve-year-old Raelyn wasn’t like the fifty-year-old Darth I met once… This is awkward. Let’s try that again.

I’ve tried to keep up with your escapades in the last ten years, that’s been fun. You’re a busy lady. Loved the saga between you and that old fart… what was his name? Burrito? No, that’s kind of food… He did look like a fat burrito, though. At least until you killed him. Then he looked like a dead burrito...

I swear to the stars, I’m actually a normal person. I’m not like this at all in person. I have friends, even!! And thoughts more coherent than anything I’ve written so far!! I used to have a ship, too… until it crashed on Arrun Prime and we sold it for a new one… And then that one crashed on Altair Three and almost killed us. It was fine. We all lived. ‘We’ would be Lana, Koth, and me, by the way. Lana you know, obviously. I hope you know who I am, otherwise this will be awkward.

Koth Vortena is a former-Zakuulan navy officer, he defected three or four years ago and came to me for help smuggling supplies to refugees on Zakuul’s surface. To be honest, I’m not entirely sure why I decided to take that job. Even then it was clear that Arcann wanted to fuck up the rest of the galaxy, and smuggling things to his homeworld and base of operations was really not the smartest idea in hindsight. But I’m a sucker for humanitarian work, and I couldn’t help but feel like I needed to go there, you know? Like something was pushing me there. Maybe it was fate. Maybe it was the Force. For all I know, it could have been you. If it was you, then thank you. I never would be here if I hadn’t gone to Zakuul. I wouldn’t have joined your Alliance, wouldn’t have helped those people, wouldn’t have met Koth. And for the last alone, I am eternally grateful.

Mum and Dad didn’t have a son after I defected, I know that. They didn’t really write me letters when I was in basic training, either. But I have to tell someone, and I suppose you’re the closest thing to a parent I have at this point, which is a weird thought. I don’t think of you as a mother figure, by the way. Just stating that outright.

You’ve never met Koth, but I think you’ll like him. He’s silly and adorable, but fiercely passionate about helping his homeworld. He’s the best pilot I’ve ever known, and a damn good cook. The man can make fish tacos better than anyone. He’s charismatic, smart, beautiful (holy shit is he beautiful - are you attracted to men? I feel like you may not be, but you may be attracted to him and I am not sorry). He’s a puppy in human skin, sensing turns in mood and responding with cups of cocoa and blankets. Basically, I’m in love with him. And for whatever reason, he seems to be in love with me, too. He says he is, anyway. And I’m inclined to believe him. So, hopefully in a couple hours, you’ll get to meet my significant other. Which might be a lot, so we’ll take everything slow.

Let’s be honest, seeing your older sister for the first time since you were kids and introducing her to your boyfriend is going to be a lot rougher on me than it is on you.

Koth says we have about an hour until we land, I should probably leave this message where it’s at.

Love you tons, sis. And see you soon,  
Raj

\---

“What a silly trinket, as if a little band of metal and jewels could signify the very weight of love between two people.”

“Because you know so much about love,” Raelyn hissed, laying flat on her back on an asteroid, arms extended to either side of her. She spun the ring around in her left hand, the one that didn’t threaten to detach itself with every movement. Just every other movement.

“I know far more than you think I do.”

“Doubtful.”

Valkorion saunted to her, crouched beside her and took the ring from her fingers. Raelyn whimpered as he did it, but had long since lost the power to fight back. It hurt to breathe, it hurt to _think_. Forget about using the Force or throwing a punch.

Valkorion sneered at her, “Lana Beniko is a lucky woman to have someone like you so devoted to her after all this time.”

Hearing the vermin beside her say the name of her beloved made every inch of her skin crawl. Like he was somehow claiming her. He defiled her name simply by saying it.

“Fuck you,” Raelyn spat, “And give that back.”

He spun the ring in his fingers, rubbed the cuff of his sleeve against the gem to polish it, ignoring her. She shuddered just watching him, groaning when the shiver went down her back. She was so tired. She was tired and she was hurting and she was hopelessly clinging to fading memories as Valkorion forced her to keep living. How long had they played this game? She had no idea. She knew she was frozen in carbonite, that these conversations were happening in her mind, that the rest of the galaxy continued without her presence. But how long it had been since she’d seen another sentient being? She had no clue.

“I miss the days when you were creative with your insults, my dear Wrath.”

“Yeah, well, I miss my kriffin _wife_ and I miss the goddamn _silence_. Save me your whining.” Raelyn clenched her eyes shut, drawing in another breath that set her lungs on fire. Even in dream land, she had to breathe, evidently. Couldn’t even give her that much, could he?

He tsked at her, “You didn’t even correct me in calling you ‘my Wrath’, isn’t that sad?”

“Fucking heartbreaking.”

She didn’t have to see him to know he was shaking his head, “Did you never once ask yourself why I’ve trapped myself in this vessel with you?”

“Been a little busy trying to get you _out_ of it,” she rasped, her anger fueling her almost enough to move.

“So firey, so passionate, so brash,” he mused, absolutely delighted with himself, “My dear Raelyn, we are going to take the galaxy together.”

She turned her head away from him, “I don’t _want_ the galaxy, I want my head back!”

He ignored her, “I have been molding you for this very moment. Since before you entered the Sith Academy, I have put into motion the events that would lead you here. You will be my successor, Raelyn. With my help, you are the only one with the strength to remove my son from the Throne. Without me, you would be nothing - another nameless dead acolyte on Korriban.”

“I suppose you’d like me to thank you for that,” Raelyn hissed, making it very clear there was zero gratitude in the statement.

Valkorion paced slowly by her head, “Arcann and Vaylin may be my flesh and blood, but _you_ are my successor, Wrath. You will bring the galaxy to its knees. Use your righteous fury and rule them better than they could rule themselves.”

She blew out of her nose, not having the energy to actually scoff at him, “You just want to eat the damn planets.”

He stopped and looked down at her, “You are so incredibly naive and stupid sometimes.”

“You’re the one who chose me as your successor.”

“Indeed I have,” he continued, “And for good reason, I assure you. The galaxy needs order, Raelyn. It needs someone ambitious and powerful to rule it. My son is a pathetic lapdog, begging for attention. He does not know the meaning of the word ‘ambition’, only ‘jealousy’. I should have weeded him long ago.”

Raelyn felt a surge of defensiveness for the man who’d trapped her in this cabonite hellscape. Arcann was a sadistic asshole, but he didn’t deserve to be referred to like a plant in a garden. “Then why the fuck didn’t you?”

Valkorion stopped and… _sighed_? Raelyn tilted her head back as far as she could to see his face. It was almost pensive as he stared off into the distance.

“Because I loved his mother once,” he explained, “I would not see her broken like that.”

“So you just tortured your children instead? Is that what their mother would have wanted?”

His face hardened again and he stared down at her over his nose, “My children needed _discipline_. They needed to learn to hold a galaxy in their hands. Coddling them would never have achieved that goal.”

If she had literally any strength left at all, she would have dragged herself to her feet and slogged him, “There’s a pretty fucking big difference between coddling your children and beating the shit out of them until they became mindless war machines.”

“I don’t recall you ever having the responsibility to parent a child,” he snarled.

She’d rattled him. Good.

“Yeah, you’re right, I don’t have kids,” she wheezed, the devilish grin on her face only coming out as a pained grimace, “And I still know more than you do about how not to do it. Thanks for the additional pointers on that, by the way.”

“You are insufferable.”

“And yet, you still chose me for your master plan of galactic domination, how touching.”

His eyes flashed red, and he took a step closer to where she lay, “Enough.”

She felt something grip her chest, something strip the air out of her lungs, something crush her ribs with massive force. She couldn’t get out a sound but if she could have, she would have screamed. She could hear the blood pulsing in her ears, feel her heart racing in her chest, see the world of her mind dim and flicker as he held her down. Maybe he would finally have enough of her. Maybe he would finally end this maddenly painful horror. Maybe he would finally let her die.

But he released her just as she felt death starting to take her, and all at once she was spluttering and heaving, desperately taking in shallow and painful breaths again.

“Fuck… I _hate_ you…” she rasped.

“Good,” he replied matter-of-factly, “let your hate strengthen you. You’ll need all you have and more for what’s next.”

“I won’t let you win,” she breathed, “I’ll fight you until the day one of us dies.”

He laughed then. Cruelly, hungrily, gratingly. He laughed the laugh that would haunt her nightmares for a lifetime. The laugh that scared her more than anything he’d done to her. The laugh that promised pain and torture and suffering.

“I look forward to it,” he replied coolly, sending another awful shiver down her spine.

He crouched beside her again, uncurling her fingers slowly just to hear her whimper as he touched her. Carefully, he placed the ring back in her hand and stood. She watched him with weary eyes as he backed away and disappeared.

“Time to go, my dear Wrath,” he called.

She looked around as much as she could without moving her head, eyes scanning the dark sky desperately, fear in her throat. The first time she had been left alone and she was more frightened than she ever had been. Her lungs burned more fiercely, hurt more clearly.

“ _Raelyn_ ,” a voice called loudly. It was not Valkorion’s. It was not of her dreams. The broken bones and torn muscles of her dreams started to fade as intense aches and painful throbbings of the carbonite poisoning intensified.

“ _Raelyn_ ,” it called again after a moment, “ _my love, wake up_.”

All at once the sky lit up in a bright white light. And Raelyn awoke.

\---

_Brother,_

_You must know by now that I am alive, that you didn’t murder me all those years ago. And if you know that, then also know this: I’ve long since forgiven you for any wrongdoing you think you may have done. You are my brother, Arcann, and I love you._

_I also know that you likely think that I am some sort of fraud, an imitator created by the Republic or Sith Empire (Or Scyva forbid, our father) to undermine you. That would be the reasonable thing to believe. It would also be the reasonable explanation for why you haven’t responded to any of the letters I’ve sent. Which, admittedly, doesn’t mean it hurts any less._

_I know that you’re lonely, Arcann. You and Vaylin were always close, but I know you’ve distanced yourself from everyone, even her. You don’t conquer worlds and order massacres because it’s something you enjoy - you do it to prove yourself worthy of the throne you sit on. Much of the galaxy blames you for the pain our family has caused in this galaxy, but I know the truth. Father took so much from us from the very beginning of our lives. He took our autonomy, he took our aspirations, he took our love, and he took our childhoods. We were pawns to him - powerful, skilled pawns to lead his massive army. In some ways, we were just as mindless as the droids and Knights we commanded. Always looking for Father’s approval. Never getting it. Not that that fact wipes blame from us entirely. Murder is still murder. But I know this is not the path you would have chosen had you been given the chance. I know you can still atone for the things you’ve done._

_There are people in the universe who still believe in you, who still know who you truly are. I may be the strongest proponent of this, but there are others. My wife, for one, but then again, she married me. Our mother still believes in you, wherever she is - I have not spoken to her since she left us as children, but I’ve heard about the things she’s been doing since you ascended to the throne. Others would too if you gave them the chance, if you showed them the side of you that I knew._

_Please, brother, do not become our father. You are not him. You are far better than him. He does not deserve to call you his son. You have always been a good man, Arcann. You used to be so compassionate, so kind - don’t let Father rip those from you, like he ripped us apart. You are so much more than the mindless pawn Father molded you to be._

_Come back to us, Arcann. You deserve to be the man I know you truly are._

_~Thexan_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! Thanks for sticking this out with me! You may have noticed that this is the last chapter in this installment - hooray for me! I'm not 100% sure how I'm going to proceed, but don't think for a second that I'm going to leave my characters behind just as the plot gets going! I just need to re-assess what I want to do with all these ideas, and this is a very nice point to insert a break. You'll also notice I took out a few tags... I had these grandiose dreams of writing this immense saga and Arcann and Vaylin would find happiness in this fic, but alas, it was not to be. Foiled by my own machinations. But again, not to worry - they've left far too many wormholes in my head to just leave them be! I'll be sure to keep you all updated with fics, I promise. =)


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